And the silently creaking music of the spheres <br />become momentarily audible, stopping you in your tracks- <br />really and truly is meant for your eyes alone <br />really and truly is meant for your ears, only <br />Such that would be a horrible loss to miss; <br /> <br />Such that, missing both, in the one informing instant <br />you might have stopped looking forever <br />you might have stopped listening forever- <br />and suddenly, everything makes sense <br />and you are given the solution to the stubbornest equation. <br /> <br />That is the moment of truest, luckiest senility <br />for which, alas, there is no cure <br />and, which if you live long and steadily enough, <br />may find you and return to roost- <br />nothing much mattering after or before.<br /><br />Morgan Michaels<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/senility-ll/
