is it too late?

Things started out so well. I was born pure, perfect, new. Endless possibility unrolled before me. While so much was unknown, my energy was just short of limitless – childhood’s “winged energy of delight,” in the words of the poet Rilke. But that was so long ago. Now, looking back on a lifetime of choices, mistakes and triumphs, I wonder, “What happened?”

The human soul likens to a mountain spring: it bubbles from the earth pure and clear, but as it trickles down the hillside, it gathers pebbles and dirt. We get muddied by life. But our essence, whether obscured by debris or still sparkling and clean, is still there, only to be filtered. The question, then, becomes: is it already too late?