What should I do
with this burden
of self?
weariness-laden

while time's restless wheels
turn and turn
inexorably
through each season

at the end of the spectrum
old age hangs--where light doesn't glisten
where life harshly and mindlessly grinds
and no hopes beckon

there's no turning back
useless it is to reason
everything perishes at the end
the last journey into the unknown knows no return

then there's no longer
self---end of burden