Looking into the window, I see a murky reflection
of the face I have studied with curiosity these long years.
It surprises me by its freshness, 

the wire mesh running across the pane draws smooth 
all crooked lines. Am I as young, unfettered, 
as my reflection tells me?

But I see only a portion, that lit my small lamp here.
The rest is dark, unknown.
Only time will reveal, only brighter light will correct
what I see, what I don't see.

I now dread light and time. I once embraced them, 
but now they chase me with all advantage --
a game we three have played all along.

Yet, I am still the child who feels betrayed 
by waves sweeping my sand castle away.
Do I admit defeat and stop building,
or continue to build against obvious defeat?

I cannot delay my answer --
the cracks in my veneer
snap with confident growth --
light, time seeping though.

______________
Found this poem in an old notebook dated Nov 1994. This week, I turn 64.