SOMETHING'S MISSING

You're feeling old and one day you notice in the mirror that you are old. We're such fools as we enter our eighth decade. Nobody is taking a second look except those more desperate than ourselves. Where has it gone? It's almost over. Is there any hope?

A grain of sand, a blade of grass, a wisp of air have as much significance as we do. When we die, it will be like we never existed. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by my insignificance, but it's only my ego bellyaching.

I could have everything--whatever everything might be--and I wouldn't be content. If fact, I do have everything, yet every hour seems filled with dissatisfaction.

I haven't surrendered, but there's something missing. But I suppose there will always be something missing.