AGED

Eventually, you will be old.

You will wrinkled and incontinent

and so no dear death that you will not recognize it

as anything different from the day-to-day.

You will age and mature

and dust and dirt will be no precognitive vision

but an obvious forecast

like the sunset

with its shades of silver and gold

soon you'll be old.

You will go grey

and say things over and over again.

Your days will be filled with a mundane

that you could not have imagined

earlier, when you were young

when you had fun

when you were one

with the universe

and not wishing to be reclaimed by it.

Eventually, you will be old.

And it is not a pretty picture I portray

nor should it be, because

nature is not pretty.

It is ugly and brutal

and you are a part of it

but also different

because

when you are old

and crippled and hideous and unloved

I shall still find you beautiful.

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