Compassion

I sit in the garden
Contemplating life,
Remembering when
As a young man I was
Torn between passion
And compassion.
Whether to love
From my heart
Or my head.
Hard even now
To choose what
Is least harmful to
The most persons,
Not selfishness as
Much as cold
Analytical
Parsing
Of my
Soul.
Cornstalks
Stubble my heart
As kernels of
My life fall
Away.
I am
Old
But I
Regret
Nothing,
I made the
Best choices
For the most
People yet
The cost
Is too
Great
Ever to
Heal or
The pain
To slip
Away.
And,
I can always
Make popcorn.