Closing doors to open others,
Climbing mounts to descend again.
What’s in store for my future?
What will change, what stay the same?
One thing for sure,
That’s nothing’s for sure.
Things are bound to change,
Eventually.
Suffering will last for a season,
Meaning wanes in hard times.
Tediousness is predictable
To outlast interests.
Thrills are few and far between
For creatures of habit, like me.
Stability and comfort dominate
As discipline works its magic.
Repetition smooths out the wrinkles
In the rhythm of my soul.
Aches and pains raise their ugly heads
Occasionally,
But nothing lasts.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 
As I used to hear in church and from the elders in my neighborhood, “This too Shall Pass.”
That’s true. Thanks, Deborah!