Behold the cruel ravages of time. I fear the intervening years have not been kind. One day you lose a step. Next day a little more. Now panic and regret are all you got in store.

We have a simple choice to make. Lament the decline or welcome it with grace; the metamorphosis, the dispossession of the cravings that haunted you; that kept telling you “you are not enough”. Why are we never enough?

I don’t pine for glory days. There never were much anyways. So many missteps. So much cringe and regret. It’s too bad just as things are finally getting interesting it’s time to go.

Squeeze everything you can out of these fleeting years.

Remember back when you were young? When I was your everything, your everyone? Now you’re the beast patrolling your domain. What a gift to watch you bloom though I decay. Wish I could freeze this frame.

When you finally lower me into that grave — Take Off to the Great White North sputtering out of a rented P.A. — spare a prayer for wayward souls. I could use some help to find my way. Then get back in your cars and get on with your day. Destiny awaits.

Don’t pine for glory days. Never were any anyways.