Old man
sitting in a chair,
Staring out…who
knows where?
Through the
years and back to youth?
Hiding in shadows, avoiding truth?
You no
longer hear the sounds,
Or see the
visions that surround.
Your world
is bounded by the chair.
And out of
focus, even there.
If you
feebly change your place,
Fatigue and
weakness slow your pace.
Haltingly
you walk and shuffle,
The gift of pain
for your trouble.
Gone your
youth full of play,
Gone your
long hard working day.
Also gone,
your loving wife,
Gone the
exuberance of life.
That crystal
clarity of mind
Is something
you no longer find.
Random
images now flow,
Fleeting
thoughts come and go.
And so you
sit as time creeps by,
Waiting for
the chair to die.
For the
physical to dissolve and fade.
For the
spirit to survive…remade.
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