Ah, I struggle with this. I fear to be lying in a bed with a morphine drip waiting to pass, and thinking of what might have been. I write this having already worked a career—you’d think that would be enough.
But it isn’t enough because there are ( I hope ) some good years left in my body and some energy left in my soul. How do I change the world in even a small way that holds when I’m done. Isn’t that the question we all face? How do we continue if we don’t find that meaning – open the door, read the paper, and great the dawn with gladness and gratitude as we should.
I guess my hope is to leave a tiny rivulet of kindness behind and save a few people to a better fate and hopefully hurt none at the same time. I wish I could answer the question for you dear reader or even answer it for myself in a sure way. Perhaps hunting with arms outstretched is our fate.
My Gifted Life 
That was what I as well could hope to give & if able more. Did I pick up sadness from you when you wrote this? Just curious. It could be me. Thanks
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Yes, I was coming off of a depressive episode, and I was grappling with my life having meaning.h
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Sonnet 2:
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed, of small worth held.
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies—
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days—
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty’s use
If thou couldst answer “This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse”,
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.
You’ve already made the world a better place by bringing Paula into the world.
Sy Rand
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Thank you for the quote and for the sharing
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