In the middle of life there’s a moment of still.

Reminiscing, regretting, “Is there point in it all?”

Looking out in both ways from the top of the hill

as I tumble and shrink to an infinite small.

For I know forever has no end of days,

it leaves me to contemplate just who I am?

And I know that size never ends in both ways,

when you sit in infinity, is there a plan

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