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This poem was another one of my late nighters when I had a terrible need to write.

The end is neither wanted or known

But if I can I will choose my own moments

I will mold them so that I may learn

And walk away with some kind of wisdom

But alas

I know not when these moments shall arise

Or when to seize them

So I instead must be bold

And willing to make terrible mistakes

So that perhaps one day when my end does come

I can hold my gray head up with a prideful gaze

Instead of hands filled with shame

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[Wes Hart]

It sounds like a man turning a corner.
A man that may have taken a moment to look at things in a new light.