Which choice would be the more regrettable

after enough lost time let one reflect

and recognize that, yes, a choice was made;

to have spent all of sparse free time chasing

an art for which one had no aptitude,

yielding chaff, nothing appreciable, or 

instead to have spent sparse free time chasing

an art for which one was well suited, showed 

real talent, and with it, might have composed  

an oeuvre worthy of approbation,

with more, in retrospect, than sparse free time 

left for the chase? One, having since made one’s 

mindless and enduring choice, might rather

not know, still suspects one or the other.