Now I become myself. It's taken
Time, many years and places,
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
"Hurry you will be dead before-"
(What? Before you reach the morning?
or the end of the poem is clear?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!...
Now there is time and Time is young
O, in this single hour live
All of myself and do not move
I, the persued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the Sun!

by May Sarton