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Poem

We knew it was coming, didn't we--
and thought it was similar to dying,
still think so,  but didn't realize
it was so stretched out.
That dying seems to be taking a while,
and I wonder what that means. 
The only trouble is it's up to me, 
and I don't like it very much.
Treading water just now, seems rather vain.

Rationale.  That's it.  Just don't
have the energy anymore
to cross new horizons.

But it's good for something
There's a palette of emotions accumulated,
shining on me, flashing at behavior,
and when I turn to them,
it is as if I hear them reminding me
that they've been here all along to serve.
They howl; they cry; they feed me wry smiles;    
they have no mercy on my weakness.
Surprise or no
it is so.
It is a universe
my very own;
it whirls;
lt vibrates;
it pleads with me
and I am not so mature
as to be able to plead with it.

Good.  There is room to continue on.
But, damn, I'm tired.
You lead.
    ~

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