No Man Waits For Time

By Alex Gibbs

I’ve been told

That the older I get the more my perception of time will warp. 

That the years gone by will feel like months.

That the months will feel like days.

And the blurry line between the thousands of days 

Will erase many memories from existence.

How will my persona change as my skin withers away?

When my wrinkles multiply,

My bones weaken,

And I approach my impending mortality.

How will I approach the giant of mortality?

Will I cower at the infinitude of death?

Or will I defy human nature

and stand unshaken,

In the face of an incomprehensible notion.

Some come to terms with their mortality.

Others develop the narrative that they are invincible,

and pretend that the distant day

that they will take their last breath,

will never occur.

A case of permanent personal fable.

In the face of such a terrifying idea,

I can only be sure of one thing;

that I will spend my days philosophizing

about the meaning of my life,

and my eventual death.