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Mary Oliver, "The Buddha's Last Instruction"

I Worried

By Mary Oliver

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? 

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? 

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless. 

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia? 

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.