Your camera has images on it you haven't taken.
and my brain reels from thoughts never said,
wonderments I haven't wondered,
and my shelves books I haven't read.
Yet I continue to look
to wonder aloud and quiet
to read when i should drop the book
and to prudently avoid the riot.
So my final conundrum plays out,
and I stop, tempted to regret,
I wonder just what I am about
and just who will pay my karmic debt.
Dorothy Parker, a poet I am not,
And epics, I have never written.
While once I had a great thought,
Now by age I am bitten.