Our final days of growing old,
letting go of the spirit within,
of dreams of others gold,
of waking up to stories untold.

Thrust across a slate path,
reeling from that fatal aftermath,
of contusion,
confusion,
illusion.

Speaking truth in each footstep,
seeing  it in every blink,
feeling in every touch,
a decent ending,
humble to poor beginnings,
and rich destiny.