My dearly beloved,
I mean me of course.
Realisation that at the end
I will be joined by no other
than my former selves.
The contemplative child,
the argumentative adolescent,
the stern steadfast teen,
the resigned, mournful, dead in the heart adult.
Now, in mid-twenties, battled, won and lost.
Worn, determined, haloed  by oblivious might
Who will I be in the next stage of life?
Yet to be determined by me.
Strength, blindness and toil.
I forge on, while end of human era is near,
Closer, with each passing breath, a child is born
Destined to a world that rages on fire unseen,
And yet, I sit, I drink tea
I watch Greta fight
With conviction I thought once ruled me,
And yet, still I sit
Still I drink tea,
Wondering vainly,
Who might I be?