Seventy-nine has just one working kidney.
Even that one doesn't work so well.
Vast domains of knowledge, passion, pleasure,
Eagerly await his ample leisure,
Nor have they aged, as far as he can tell.
The problem is he's in such pain he simply
Yearns for moments peaceful, clear, and still.
Needs are hopeless mountainsides, nor is he
Interested in digging deep for treasure.
Now it is enough each day to fill,
Enduring grace too bountiful to measure.
