Tired of Life - Aug 10 2022

 

Tired of Life

Aug 10 2022

In the grey home

with the sour smell and institutional paint

the old people

who are tired of life

sit propped in padded chairs,

shrivelled legs

covered by threadbare blankets

with all the loft washed out,

rheumy eyes

vacantly gazing 

at unadorned walls.

Or perhaps looking into the past

where we cannot follow them.

I suppose this is a mercy,

to approach inevitable death

with equanimity,

no fight left.

To resign yourself.

To accept.

To resolve, forgive, let go.

Will I, too, become bored of life?

Will I find myself instead

looking ahead

to the next big step;

the last unknowable mystery

what happens after death?

Not that I believe

in any kind of after-life.

But still, we are born curious

and surely die that way,

wondering

about the next great adventure

hypothetical as it is.

Or will it be sleep?

A dreamless sleep, of course,

disembodied and unending.

Consciousness extinguished.

Eternity

as absurd to comprehend

as a universe with no beginning

space without end.

Too morbid?

I think I write too much about both ageing and death.

Maybe more puppy dogs and trees!