So, it is the bogey, eh;

the slow, drip drip of falling apart;

entropy built in by the 2nd great Law

 culminating in a last leap into the dark

whether to other worlds or no;

the final release or departure

seen as utter loss.

End.

And so it is! - for that one cell, atom, self;

 one micro-blip of being-ness.

That last breath spells: fare thee well,

Are we no good at endings?

Don’t know how to or like moving on

nor recognize ends are the other side

of new beginnings.

We want everything to remain 

the dream-optimum same, right now;

and put off, postpone the nasty bits,

any adventuring into the unknown:

it’s risk, possibilities.

Something mere knowledge

cannot control or rely on. Fix.

Or, at least, to keep alive at any price

even if  reduced to zombiedom,

by dint of drugs, interventions, lifestyle.

 

 Eternal youth for everyone?

Yet, see how the young themselves

grapple with and fear not just death -

but, the darlin's, to get cranky like granny

and forget where one’s teeth are

what the time is…

 

Ah me! All that!

Think of the conditioning.

What we imbibed with mothers milk,

by the experience of things that hurt

in history class, in bed, church, playground, or what the tele says.

 

Yet, think of undying...is that bearable?

think of all the lives lived without joy

on auto, in survival mode

bored, purposeless or lost:

a torment without reprieve.

 

Divine discontent, a fine propellant.

some reckon.

All for an intelligent evolutionary purpose - others aver;

making it a little bit easier to live with.

Or run from.

 

Rocks eventually crumble.

Every growing and breathing life-form

has a span. Comes in, goes out.

Averaged out, per type, but,

(apart from H2O, doing it all the time )

the moment inevitably comes:

to wear out and recycle

back to the original components

or on to some other mutational paradigm

transfiguration or metamorphosis.

 

We shift in and out, back and forth

like the inexhaustible tide,

sidereal breathing,

cyclically, to arise and fall back

whether spatially or spiritually

in minutes or cosmic aeons;

intrinsic parts of the Universes

 Living Self.

 

Any Life stage or Age in itself,

assures authenticity, integrity for each.

The infant is OK. Complete in cradle.

The Crone, a doll -  however un-able.

What’s the difference

between being ”old” at 99. Or 50?

Surely, it depends upon usage, stress:

whether with ill-fed, uncared-for bodies

and minds - or not?

The DNA. Environment. Circumstance.

The Spirit.

 

There are those who seek to conquer it

as if it were an enemy, a disease,

an unwelcome affliction.

Surely, if one set one’s mind to it,

we should overcome by will and gut;

we can run marathons at any age,

climb mountains, follow dietary regimes,

jog, gym, drink, pray, have sex, go crazy

in order to maintain a perceived optimum

of well-being, mobility, prowess.

Bravo!

Statistical probabilities of accident, genetic liability, group karma, inheritance

and acts of God discounting.

Or

one can live every day in terror

resentful and resistant.

The body-mind - a faulty vehicle or tool,

costly in MOTS and running expenses.

Blame making comfortable sense...

OR

...is it possible there are other factors

properly beyond and not our business?

As a security and control freak species

who considers it can fix, order, arrange

any and everything

to the last resort of insurance as back-up

the idea that there are certain things

outside and despite that caveat

are necessarily anathema.

Fear itself, not abstract

underpinning every thought and deed.

Sobeit!

The sanctity of personal choice.

One after the other, lifelong

shaping and making us what we are

within and due to the embrace of Age.

 

This very instant I am as old as the hills

a kindof Time-machine

renewing every cell, seven yearly

 - apart from the soul bit, with its 8 facets of immortality embedded.

Carbon and hydrogen safe

 in my primal core.

Each innerly disintegration,

collapsing of outwardness

 incurs a spurt of creative renewal.

As physical beings, all may grow grey,

 get lines, joints wear down.

A due process we resign ourselves to

or strive to undo, deny.

But how about indwelling every moment

with peace, gratitude and joy?

Forget about ticking clocks

and rejoice!

Celebrate the gift of breath!

 

Oldness has naught to do with ageing!!

Nor with appearances or digits.

It is an attitude. A privilege.

The accreditation of letting go.