of "the dying of the light"

 sobs instead of rage

I can feel the potential of the light dying,

as I am in striking distance of 80 years of age,

I do not so much feel rage at the diminution of the light

as the welling of deep tears flowing forth

for all the endings that seem so imminent,

I also don't really feel assured

that this moment of ending is not just to be anticipated

but also to be embraced,

that all my life has been waiting for this moment,

instead I anticipate not applause at the ending

but rather sobs for the wonder and joy

of that which was,

that which still is,

and that which no longer can be.

by Henry H. Walker

June 25, ‘26