Even in disenchantment, there are joys,
Momentary flashes of bliss
That fuels the diminishing returns of 
Life in its inevitable decline, 
These should be embraced when little is left 
In the dim-lit corridors of old age.
  
No doubt there are more harrowing moments, 
Sharp shards of long-past piercing pain 
That prolongs the agonizing hours 
Into the clock-less time of hospitals 
But then, then our hearts can be flooded with 
Fleeting remembrance of all those we loved.