What Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote about love applies to life, too. “’Tis not love’s going hurts my days, but that it went in little ways.”
I can accept death, a biological necessity,
A period marking an end
To a full, abundant life.
It’s the chipping away I think I resent –
The muffling of sound
The fading of sight
The loss of a limb
Bright mind now dim.
No, it’s not death’s going that hurts my days, but that it comes in little ways.
Oh God, let me LIVE every day of my life.