Sum

Only depressed

Old men

Truly understand

Reversal; at

Sunset’s conclusion

Blue hour dawning

Coming to realize

Their lives were

Constructed though

Choice and circumstance

Both being made

By nescient minds

Recounting what

They became

Rather than

Who they are

Still becoming

A Zeitgeist means

We cannot know

Until the sum of

What was, in its

Entirety, revealed; a

Complete story

Perhaps not

Even then

After last breath

Dates writ

Files saved

Skeleton rotting

Someone else

Must tally the

Columns; labelling

According to

Their own sense

Of virtue and vice

Glen says

Getting old takes

A very long time, but

Getting really old

Happens so fast

I asked him

What does it

Feel like, for I

Cannot know

Until I wear

Similar shoes

He says now

He is more

Tired of living

Than scared

Of dying

A curious weighing

Twilight’s truth

Measured; this is

What “old” actually

Means: the

Fundamental and

Inescapable

Cannot be felt

Until bones

Brittle, muscles

Gone, appetite

Nonexistent

When flesh

Finally fails

I asked what

His favourite

Food is, to

Coax him

To eat; he said

Anything sweet

a chocolate bar

Meant energy, fuel

Brightness

In the mines

Time spent with

World’s weight

Hanging above

Under rock and stone

Chipping at innumerable

Elements, working

Beyond comprehension

Victims of circumstance

Necessity dictating

Steady wages; feeding

Many hungry mouths

Swinging picks

Hauling minerals

Innocent and

Responsible

Hold equal weight

Grief is realizing

No matter what

Intrinsic totals will

Be left wanting

Finally coming

To know; alone

In a wheelchair

Singly staring out

Windows, watching

Worlds go on

Without you

No chorus needed

Just requiring

One witness

Present, to say yes

You were/are

All these things

And still,

Infinitely, so

Much

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