The body fails us inch by inch, by year,
and we must hold each other gently.
Every day the news is worse than the last.
The dog still wants to play at noon.
We arrive alone and depart alone.
In between, sometimes someone saves us a seat.
The earth is burning, and no one will stop it,
so I'll teach the trees toward a sky I won't see.
All my best thoughts have already been thought.
Someone, somewhere, understood me.
Shared with Poets and Storytellers United #247: Reframing Negative Concepts
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
