Until Last Breath
The sense of time passing slowly,
has passed.
It moved beyond pace to comprehend,
when my skin turned a spotted grey,
and eyes once focused now open,
to a foggy haze.
I grieve not,
for the journey created expectations,
from a child born unaware.
who reached an age of reflection.
Where memories are washed,
in misty realms of truth and fiction,
and thoughts of what should have been,
that circle above like vultures waiting to descend,
to feast on the carrion of what is.
As I move closer to death,
time and contemplation squeeze the soul,
and wonder holds the hand of reality.
I still find joy in the movement of children,
who have yet walked on the road of appreciation,
for breath.
To have lived is itself a wonder.
One that leaves no understanding,
except for self-fulfillment.
For when all the arguments have been made,
and all the tears have fallen,
whether joy or uncontrolled emotion,
I will remain bemused by it all,
until my last breath.
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