The Gentle Storms of Aging


Exterior changes can show up fast or take their time

They can amble about taking years before offering up a sinking sight

Suddenly, one day, one look in the mirror

And something never before noticed

Seemingly appeared overnight and can no longer

Be mimed away or mindlessly put aside

What once was unconcerned quotidian oblivion

Quickly turns into a daily obsession that screams for constant adjustment


The gentle changes have yielded a forceful result

That we acclimate to with glaring difficulty

We face the pressing nature of a gentle change

That took years and seasons to manifest and settle in

That grew mostly unheeded and dependent on our whim


But now, here it is in our faces

And proud to be

There is simply no reverting back to the past

What is cannot be un-created –

It looks stoically at our unbelieving gazes


Did all this time really go by?

Is there nothing to be done to tether youth to our side,

To fend off the murmuring march of time?

What to make of emerging facial maps,

Of redefining lines, of marked grooves

That we vilify and attempt to cosmetically nullify?


If gentle is their emergence,

Gentle should be our acceptance

However, the communal chorus teaches us

That we mustn't surrender to tick-tocking currents

That our rebellion should be profound and sudden

We are told to not let ageing settle in

And we in turn convince ourselves that

Our efforts will win against

The Losing End


Doesn't it seem pointless to push against high tide?


Wouldn't rolling with the times soften an otherwise flattened facade

Isn't it that the more we resist each second's natural carving the more

This entire process of altered reflections feels disheartening?


Youth collects stories and Old Age holds a cache of memories

Each is due an equalizing seat at life's oval gathering

Gentle and gently

Look upon what is and will be

We are here to define who we are and will become

Beyond what the unconscious eye claims to be our sum