entropy wins at the end

the act I’m in now

I don’t feel anywhere near as old as I must look,

like many of us, I have an earlier image of my self

that hovers within me, 

that hasn’t changed much in a quarter century plus,

my body and mind still can do,

and, it seems to me, to do well,

much like they always have,

yet I don’t run anymore, and I miss it,

sleep is no longer a trusty sidekick

but rather a friend that counsels uncomfortable truths

right in the middle of the night,

that time when I would prefer to shut off

the fear, the sorrow, just below my sureness,

I wake up and feel that I’m slapped

with what I don’t want to acknowledge,

ever since my Daddy abruptly died

and wasn’t there for me, ever again,

I have felt the surface on which I live

as tenuous, fragile, liable to dissolve at any moment,

and something within break, and I can no longer be,

or something without randomly intrude and I am no more,

we live a life of probabilities, 

and sometimes our luck will run out,

so much that feels right won’t fit us any more,

as age and entropy win at the end,

for now, I seek to remember to live these moments well,

the curtain will come down, 

let me joy in whatever act I live 

in the moments I have now.

by Henry H. Walker

October 16, ‘15