I've been here for 6,570 days.
a short time i suppose.
it makes my existence so minute,
such as freckles on face,
such as stars in space.
it feels so vague and absurd yet
I have stories to tell,
Families to visit too,
Friends to live for but this
This all seems temporary
It is exhausted in the moment itself
The hope, the familiarity,
The joy, the passion
Everything.
I, again sat to wonder upon my existence
Wondering how true soul is?
I'm here for 6,570 days
They were days i wanted to stop counting it
Yet the numbers refused

Pray for Death
As she walks our halls.
Pray she tap so softly
Upon each chamber door
Where angels long prepared her visit.
Pray her breath is sweet
When she whispers,
Come my love, it’s time,
And pray her hand be warm
As she guides each on the way.
And if you think Death capable of mistake,
As I do not,
But if you do,
Pray the taken Soul
All the sooner,
All the closer,
Be clasped to our Lord.

why would you
prefer to live for
eternity?

everyone around you
will die at some point,
everyone you love
or loved,
would be gone.
what's the point then?

you'd grow really old,
and you'd have no one.

so why would you prefer
to live for eternity?

death is natural.
it's sad, of course.
it's miserable when we lose
someone we love dearly.

but everybody dies.

there's no point in living forever.

atleast to me,
there isn't.

I am a little older now,
Neither grew taller nor became bigger,
Just a little rusted cogs here and there,
Joint with a dimmer shine of dreamy eyes.

In many places I have been
Novels and books I've read.
Yet not much have I seen,
Not far I could tread.

And then the slower my marches became,
No strength could I muster.
My thoughts were sunk in a haze by then,
No forward could I luster.

So I'm just a little old now,
Though sinking, my heart hasn't drowned now.
But it's cold here and I'm scared.
"Hope it won't be too late to ask for help
I'm afraid"

Comfortable with the unspeakable
Obnoxious unconfrontational
Augmented stolen-perch ******,

Agel, with no ‘n’ for nurture, eyes for plundered treasure
Your age isn’t elegant
Eat the ****** fruit whole with the pips, as old children are murdered, opal fires fixed in feathers...

Why is life measured in years and not living?
Long years and truly life, uncorrelated
Age and wealth, mere numbers, not significance
Whereas transcendence and becoming is

The old was yesterday, the new reborn daily
More than the sum of all you were, and more
Every day a new world, walked with new eyes
With ancient soul, and even more ancient spirit

Seeing from the end to the beginning, and beyond
Insatiable but there is yet sleep, and tomorrow
Today, a life fully lived, and ancient evermore aged
Eternal life beckons, and tomorrow We walk, again

And We walk not alone, but as One
The unseen truly real not that seen

He looks so small now
The man who used to tower over me
Broad shoulders
Strong body
A mountain climber
Who walked through Europe in his youth

He was the strongest man I knew
The one who took me on adventures
Biking to the forest
Climbing ancient ruins
A world of knowledge
Collected through a life displayed on his shelves

Now he looks so small
Like I can pick him up
And carry him in a box
Barely even there
Vacant behind the eyes
Trapped in his own mind

This giant of a man
Made fragile by age