Years've passed. Hate and distrust expired.
Your synapses turn to something akin to wood.
You motor's slowing nicely, as it should-
Frankly, you're more or less healthy, love, but tired
Tired having seen so many kinds of folly, learning as you
Did, all spring from the same rood:
Genuine Greed, imaginary Need-
Awful, loving, now, all points of view
Awful, loving all, now, clothed or nude.
Necessary, illness, now, and good-
Even your teeth's, which presently grow forward!
God, an indemnity, as you trudge death's doorward.
All you had you now admit, indeed,
But having, now, admit no longer need.