The past happened without me, as will the future.
Beginning on what day will I no longer get out of bed?
Unable to remove the mask and walk away,
to pee or whatever. Will I know anything?
On what day will I no longer want coffee?
I can handle not to have. But not to want?
Does nirvana or moksha reflect happiness or denial?
On what morn I’ll no longer begin a day’s reading?
Is not my quest for knowledge stewed in desire?
To have and to hold, to want and to need. To care?
There’s more I want to know. Will I care? Do I?
Must I stop loving her on that day? As the Jones song goes.
Will my dignity be intact, or will it be the first to go?
Will I die in a puddle of shit? As many would see that as fit.
Will I remember my name, yours, where I am? Will I care?
Is there such a thing as death with dignity? Or do we
just pass on to return life for life? Don’t talk like that?
Away and towards. Turn, turn, turn. Say I love you.
I care.
I do.
Love you.
© Bill Reynolds 10/15/2018
Look both ways; to the beginning and toward the end, when gaps no longer matter.
Our Literary Journey 
Good writing Bill. It’s hardly ever pretty when you go. As a medic I saw quite a few die on the toilet. Not very romantic, but saves somebody from changing your ass. I want to die like in the Second Hand Lions story.
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The Blaze of Glory story. I get it., Me too. Thanks, Jim.
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I like this one, Bill. It’s a great description of how it feels to be stranded between a past that’s already dead and a future that ends in death. From that perspective the present offers the best chance to live fully.
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Goodness. Well said, Marilyn: ‘between a past already dead, and a future that ends in death.’ Glad you liked it.
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I think we all fear how we will die more than death itself. No one wants to suffer or see their loved ones suffer. You give some good advice, say I love you❤️ Those are words too seldom shared, but never regretted. Be well😊
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I love you…
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I love ya too, Yolonda.
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So inevitable yet so quiet.
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So, ’tis. Thanks.
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