aging

the stories of the past
are told in memory;

the evolution of time
is evident
in the erosion
of the land
and the gray lines
creasing our faces;

nostalgia and time's passing mix
to form a heavy weight
upon the mind,

death makes its presence felt,
not ominous,
but real:

we have lived,
we shall die

but not yet,
there is still more for us
to be,
to do,
to experience,

more wisdom to gain
before the sands
in life's hourglass
run out

Who

I stared hard
into the mirror
looking beneath
the salt and pepper,
past the sharp white hairs,
through the faded blue,
beneath the lines
of the laugh-aged face;

I stared hard
and I asked,
"who are you"

I'm still waiting
to live out
the answer

Time

light has left my eyes,
what was once
a clear blue
has begun to fade to gray;
a firmer gray
litters the beard,
while silver threads
have twisted their way
through my hair,
Time has shown its signs;

there are more dull aches,
more insistent pains,
a constant inventory
of internal nicks
reminding of Time's steady march;

I've never felt better,
never been clearer of mind,
or more vibrant 
in my thoughts,
wisdom being the benefit
of having experienced
the passage of Time