Being Wise Twenty-Nine August 22, 2021
Leaves reaching, inside the window,
outside, too. Around me paintings,
mostly Russian, those loved people.
Then papers and books everywhere:
under my desk, in drawers of filing
cabinets, in boxes taking up half
the room, or more. All the words I’ve
written and will leave behind me.
These last books are my best, I think.
One at a time, I’ve published twenty-
eight books. In coming years, thirty-
one. Then I’ll rest my case. All the
human stories I’ve told, the battles
I’ve described; the endings I’ve
imagined and made real. All the
people who’ve helped me, and those
I’ve helped. What else is our human
life for? If we help each other on earth,
we’ll help each other in heaven. Who
we are won’t ever be lost. Even as our
light dims, it won’t disappear.
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