Today's poem is by an unknown author. It's rather fitting, I think, for the lunatics who are convinced the world will end on Friday. Below you will find Life Owes Me Nothing.
Life owes me nothing. Let the years
Bring clouds or azure, joy or tears,
Already a full cup I've quaffed;
Already wept and loved and laughed;
And seen, in ever endless ways,
New beauties overwhelm the days.
Life owes me naught. No pain that waits
Can steal the gold from memory's gates;
No aftermath of anguish slow
Can quench the soul-fire's early glow.
I breathe, exulting, each new breath,
Embracing Life, ignoring Death.
Life owes me nothing. One clear morn
Is boon enough for being born;
And be it ninety years or ten,
No need for me to question when.
When Life is mine, I'll find it good,
And greet each hour with gratitude.
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