Thank you Mr Eliot

I said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope
for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
wait without love
for love would be love for the wrong thing;
there is yet faith
but faith and love and hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought:
so darkness shall be the light
and the stillness the dancing.

Heard this on Radio 4 the other day.
The words resonate
with a special meaning
in my current state of mind:

wait without thought
for you are not ready for thought

Very likely that I am frantically
carving out a mental escape hatch,
a slick denial chute perhaps

but I don't care
the words are soothing
like my mother's hand
on my feverish brow
(a lifetime[?] ago):

wait without thought
for you are not ready for thought

what's my age again?

As I squeeze a little multicoloured
cylinder of toothpaste on to my
sleepy brush yet again I wonder
why I bother with days and
years and birthdays when
it would be simpler to just measure
my age in toothpaste - after all
I use the same amount each day
and replace the tube religiously
without fail - I am my own
timekeeper - my mathematically
inclined neurons (a minority) whisper
my age - one hundred and ten
tubes of toothpaste - accurate
- down to the last squeeze