The Journey

What are the ways in which I die

Little by little

Every day? 

From the minute I was born

There has been a part of me that is dying

Whether by the constant daily toil

Or by living and working

Or by the stress that is never fully relieved

Or by the ailments that are never fully healed

Or by the natural biological processes of 

Decay

I die a little bit

Each and every day.

These are my thoughts

As I walk along this road

Knowing only where I came from

And having only a vague idea of where I’m going.

I know that all this sounds morbid

But it fills me with a sort of inner peace

Knowing that at the end of the road

Death does not come suddenly

But gradually seeps into your bones

Like slowly wading into calm,

Cool waters.