There's a war raging...
And a pandemic.
A routine blood test report could change life as we know it. Or perhaps a 000 call.
Everything we hold dear...every near one...we could lose. One way or another.
Our bodies are ageing. Our memory fading. Even those are not our own.
House plants die. From over or under watering. We care too much. Or too less.
Friends grow apart. Kids grow up. Dreams are achieved or go stale. Either way, beautiful things don't last.
Even love comes with price tags. And poetry with painful punctuation.
Nothing is real. Except imagination. Until we lose that too.
Life be not proud, I say.
For in the end... we'll either turn into dirt..or lie under a pile of it.
P.S. Oscillating between John Donne's "Death Be Not Proud" and "No Man is an Island", I confronted my fear of loss.
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