by John Gray
My age is my mitigating circumstance.
As the witnesses to my life decrease in number,
and less dispute of my memories.
My account of how it happened erupts from
daily recreations of myself,
and my truisms aren’t always false.
At those moments when I ride the clean edge
I am frightened by small truths,
But, generally, I no longer wish to be held responsible.
The more I learn the less I fear the wrath
Events are swiftly and conveniently forgotten by
a turning of the head,
leaving most puzzles unsolved.
There are no fewer mysteries due to my presence,
But, I take modest satisfaction in tapping my own
dance and making my singular mark.
As I age, my mark fades and I recognize the purpose
Of my life is to reconcile me to its eventual loss.