The Last Mystery

Blessed be he, when life is through,
Who can honestly say... as I say to you,
My goals were modest; my heart was true;
My hopes were humble, simple and few,
And I've done all the things I dreamt to do.
I've sung the lead in "Oklahoma."
I've paintings on display in MOMA.
I'm a hip-hop-rapper-poet-rock star;
I've won an Emmy and an Oscar.
I've mastered Shakespeare, Keats, and Milton,
And eaten lunch with Paris Hilton.
I've earned a triple PH.D.,
Kissed La Belle Dame Sans Merci,
Shot a hole-in-one, and had my name
Enshrined in several Halls of Fame.
I've won debates with Deepak Chopra,
Been on Letterman and Oprah,
Learned what Hindu swamis teach you,
Climbed Mt. Everest and Machu Picchu,
Had epiphanies, transformations,
Nobel Prizes and standing ovations,
Been born again and made my homäge
On the road to Damascus and done the Hajj
Where I stoned the devil for all of his crimes
And circled the Kaaba seven times.
I've gone with the flow; I've bucked the tide;
I've slain the dragons of hubris and pride.
I'm one of the last who shall be the first.
I've had a vasectomy reversed.
I've heard the call and smelled the roses
And seen my own apotheosis.
I'm ready for death as the ancient stoics;
My health care directive says, "No heroics."
I've been to the mountain, had my moment of Zen
In the tunnel of death with that light at the end.
But the mystery where I draw a blank...
And I've tried to fix it and it drives me insane...
Is the problem in the toilet tank
When the handle-thingy comes off the chain.

           Full disclosure: Some of these things
                                I haven't actually done yet...
                                poetic license.