When I doubt the love of God I still know it deep inside me. Will old age or infirmity take that from me? If it does, takes my knowledge or my mind, I will still be a beloved though I may not know it any more. (Although I have heard it said, do not go gentle into that deep fishbowl.)

BECOMING THE GOLDFISH
Consider the goldfish, supreme in her element.
She swims so lovely, moving dance,
glide and flash, swirling by.
Knows not all of earth and sky,
but grounded in the waters.
I see the approach of full immersion.
I see I forget what I used to know.
Long have I searched for the heart of God,
have held it and felt it inside of mine,
but a few scales now glisten on my long-smooth mind.
And sometimes a floating, and sometimes a shimmer
of my changing skin as the years polish me.
Oh, let me slip lightly around my fishbowl,
Shining and simple
Serenity.