There Is No Need to Know This

I am growing older, that's becoming clear.
Not that it needs to become clear.
Not that at any point in perception, at a point let's say
Like this one, does there come a need for a certain sense
Of that which ages one as it clarifies.
No, nothing needs to be clarified. Growing older makes this clear.
When you see that your legs are shaky, it's not that they shake
Because you see them shake.
There is no need to think of the step that falters
As a step that falters because
That's what you think.
When you feel yourself stumble, when you're falling in fact,
And it seems as you feel this that your thought somehow stumbles
Over the fact that you're falling, there is no need for weighing
Your words to explain this; when you're down
On the ground there, even your silence weighs enough.
One of the wonders of man, even more than his idiocy,
Is his capacity for clarifying what is already clear.
When the bird flies, it is flying, and there is no need to know this.
What the bird sings, it is singing, and there is nothing to think.
When the day is growing older, when it's older in fact,
And I'm out there in my yard watching the birds land on the line,
And the sunlight, casting shadows, is beginning to strike me
As missing my point here, and laying the blame at my feet,
It's not that the light thinks
There is something
To be clarified; if the dark makes
The stars shine, this will soon be clear enough.