Before

Before I reach the end of all my days

That fade the last of what I have to give

The measure of how well my life was lived -

To know my gifts, and give them all away

To know in truth the promise of my youth

Decisions past must not lead me astray

To turn false starts to stones that pave the way

Towards the orchard where I bear my fruit

And so I pray to find the open road

Which leads me to a place where I can breathe

To burst the sky and root the earth beneath

Smiling, in the flowering of my leave.