—∞—
At a certain age, I believe
I am standing at a trailhead
Stretching out under my feet
That final path curves out of sight
A hush surrounds
Slowly
I move forward
Uncertain, drawn
Pushed?
Or at the end of a hallway
Long empty walls
No color
No windows
No sound
But echoes poised
My own footsteps
My own breath
For now
Perhaps on a dark desert road
Nothing visible
Beyond the headlights’ arc
No trees
No roadside brush
No stars
Behind, total darkness
Ahead on the horizon a faint glow
Out of reach
Recent health issues
Found me fearful
Anxious
A sense of giving up
Complete surrender
Grudging acceptance
Not of my choosing
Alone
Very alone
It’s not that I’m afraid, per se
What’s next is not of my concern
But I am fearful, sometimes,
About persistent loss, now
Unresolved issues, now
A legacy of being misunderstood
Misunderstood to the point of
Not being loved, honored
Respectfully remembered
Time is running out
Not much to be done
Yet things have become undone
Time is running out
Loved ones unseen
Growing older
Old memories fading
New memories deferred
Or irredeemably lost
© 2014 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 
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