When I was young, fog enshrouded me.
I forged my own footprints
but paid little heed to their traces.
Now in old age,
as a bright sun pierces the fog
I wish that years back
my vision had been clearer.
What can I do now?
If I was judgmental,
I now see life’s complexities.
If I took love for granted,
I now love with wonder.
If I consoled sparingly,
I will now help shoulder sorrows.
If I was self-absorbed,
I will now attend to the lives of others.
I cannot spool time backward,
but I can spin my intentions forward.