Leaving The Beloved And Loving The Beleaguered

The world is too achingly beautiful, and must be sipped- Slowly, sparingly- so that you don't choke on all its richness, And when you find that you are dying, even slower still.. And when you are old and dying, unbearably lovely young women Will come to sit at your feet, and beg you for the old stories- Of when you were once young, and everything in the world was new again- And it all belonged to you, then as now, and you will realize then That it still is yours- that it never left you. So that when you die you will be smiling, and they will say then of you, He died peacefully, with a happy smile on his face. But it will be only that you died laughing at the joke of it; Life's joke, which was all at your expense; and that for a few moments You had it all, and only when you finally knew the truth, It was the final instant before life took it all away again. In the end it was always you who were leaving life behind, Though you will always suppose that it was life, that left you.