someone I know is dying
actually, I guess,
everyone I know is dying

is hurtling, recklessly, toward the inevitable
we all are — falling — startling one another,
in moments, we collide
when we are young, beautiful, bright

and do not know to blaze
against the dimming of our light
have not learned
that we may fade

my grandfather, now,
hair thinning back
to downy head of babes
his fingers, still,
though growing stiff with age

he curls them still
— and still holds tight

friends of mine, too,
have met with some surprise
the flickers in their flames
breathe more deeply, then
to stoke the embers of their names
burn bright, young friends

the youth we shared
the days we spent
weep not now for unsaid prayers
for years that came and went

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