In the second half of life, where the horizon broadens,
Room expands, and the world grows vast and encompassing.
Yet, in this expansion, an intimate paradox blooms,
Connections deepen, circles tighten, authenticity thrives.

No shock, no ire, as most sway to the rhythm of first-life tasks,
Programs run, institutions churn, and paths pre-set,
Yet, not to be hated, but observed with understanding,
For this is the programmed dance of groups and institutions.

The bottom line of the gospel reveals itself at a precipice,
A plunge into the depths before the true spiritual journey begins,
A transformative shift from mere religiosity to profound authenticity,
A longing to inhale life’s fresh air, unburdened and unrestrained.

At this bottom, where practicality and efficiency fade,
And revenue generation loses its urgency and appeal,
There lies a desire, not for material gain, but to breathe,
To breathe in the essence of existence, to taste fresh air.

The true gospel, in its essence, is the breeze that caresses,
Always present, a breath of fresh air and spacious breathing room,
Contrasted against the demands of ego and institutions,
That clamor for a tit-for-tat universe, a rigid order.

Yet, the soul, in its wisdom, swims in a boundless sea,
A sea of abundance, grace, and freedom,
Where the organized structures of ego hold no dominion,
And the spirit dances to the rhythm of an unscripted existence.