On the brink of eternity,
I pause and look behind —
The people known,
The work grindstones,
The things I owned —
What do they mean?
For nothing lasts,
And all must change,
And jumbled thoughts,
All disarranged —
Assail me.
Those people I looked up to
Seem to grow so small;
I don’t know them at all.
I cannot tell what God is doing —
What purpose does He have?
So many years ago,
All seemed bright and full of promise,
But gradually, the light did dim,
And now the world seems grim.
I cannot tell what God is doing,
But surely He lives —
As He slowly writes my story.
clarakatalin 
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