A Birthday Present

It's not like I need to begin again.
So many years have already passed,
full of burdens and bursts of possibilities.
I should applaud myself for no longer
falling into the trap of substituting
new illusions for the abandoned ones.
And, yes, there remains a sublime madness in the soul.
In this birthday season of ice and cold
when the wind blows with an edge,
the amaryllis blooms, sending color
to the outermost rim of consciousness.
Now, I am more and more sure of grace.
I have watched those most close to me fall
and then get up to brush off debris from their knees.
Some have chosen to sit for a while
and I often think, Should I have joined them?
Is the rim too fragile to hold both of us?
But, there I go again, something I have done
throughout my time alive, asking the questions
which envision some sort of answer that ties
a birthday present up with a bow.