Swept to old age no shelters exist.

poem/prose meant to sound like a Suttra, after explaining one on growing old

Based the silly Zen Kitten's words.
- I tried to put it in the  form of a sutta/sutraa -

Impermanence lurks at every corner,
Every moment is discreetly anew.
Every minute we are a minute older,
Every straight will become askew.

Everything built will be gone,
Everything done be undone,
Everything born will die.

So treasure every rising instant.
Savor every passing  moment,
As you see it's every "now" fly.

With the light of a new awareness in your eye.