A contemplative poem about aging, uncertainty, and the quiet resilience of the human spirit. It explores the tension between not knowing life’s direction and still choosing to live fully—finding meaning in small moments, simple awareness, and the courage to begin again each day.
As If It Were My Last Day
How much time do I have now?
A question that sits
like an old companion
at the edge of my bed.
It doesn’t shout.
It waits.
I have chased answers
through books, through people,
through the soft promises of mornings
that never quite explained themselves.
Yes, I am older now—
but not finished.
I find the question still breathing in me.
Strange, isn’t it?
The body slows,
but the mind—
oh, the mind keeps knocking
on doors that don’t exist yet.
You told me once:
Live the life given by God,
as if there were a map,
as if the roads were labeled.
But this life—
it feels more like walking through fog
with a heartbeat for a compass.
Still… I salute the morning.
And I think:
What if today is the last page?
Not in fear—
but in defiance.
What if I spend it noticing
the way light leans on the wall,
enjoying it fully
when no one interrupts?
What if I forgive faster,
laugh louder,
care less about matching shoes,
and walk somewhere meaningful?
I get dressed sometimes
just to feel ready—
not to go anywhere,
but to remind myself
I still have a wish.
Something in my heart says:
There is still a way to burn—
not out, but bright.
So I will live this day
as if it might be the last—
not by rushing,
not by fearing,
but by arriving in it
and feeling it completely.
And if tomorrow comes—
I will arrive there too,
with my natural smile.
(Vijay Verma)
www.retiredkalam.com
Categories: kavita
Retiredकलम 
So quietly powerful and deeply reflective Verma ji… 🤍 It reads like a gentle conversation with life itself full of acceptance, courage, and a soft kind of hope. The way you embrace uncertainty yet still choose to live fully is truly touching. It lingers in the heart long after reading.
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Thank you so much for such a heartfelt reflection 🤍
Your words truly touched me. I’m really glad the piece felt like a gentle conversation—that’s exactly the space I hoped it would create.
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Feeling approaching mortality with curiosity rather than fear is the better way. Once we retire, we are all busy doing the things our jobs never gave us time to do, including thinking about how long remains to us. As we get ever older, the question comes up more frequently, but our mind hopes it is not this day. Have a good Monday. Allan
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Thank you, Allan—this is such a thoughtful and quietly profound reflection.
Approaching mortality with curiosity rather than fear… that’s not an easy mindset to reach, but it feels like a wiser, gentler way to walk that path. Retirement really does open up space—not just for long-postponed activities, but for deeper thoughts we once kept at bay.
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Verma ji, this is breathtaking.
You’ve captured something so rare—the quiet dignity of not knowing, yet still showing up. Lines like “walking through fog with a heartbeat for a compass” and “I get dressed sometimes just to feel ready” will stay with me for a long time.
There’s no false hope here, no dramatic resolution—just the honest, tender courage of being human. The way you honour both the slowing body and the restless mind, the fear and the salute to morning… that’s real wisdom.
Thank you for writing this. It feels like a gift.
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Thank you so much for this deeply thoughtful reflection 🤍
Your words truly moved me. You’ve understood exactly what I was trying to hold in that piece—the idea that sometimes courage isn’t loud or certain, it’s simply the act of continuing, even when clarity hasn’t arrived yet.
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