The Illustrations

Aging is that biological evil
we all must bear 
as we are swept along
with the arrow of time.

Knowledge comes with the journey:
we are all damaged and worn
by life, and the people and events
contributing to, and molding, that life.

We all bear our grotesque tattoos,
some hidden, some blatantly obvious,
and others interpret only those illustrations
they can see through the haze,
the light, the pain,
of their own picture-books.

We hobble on towards an end
that we either accept as natural,
or, girded by ancient superstition,
embrace as our just reward
for a good life, well lived.

We suffer, yet within that pain
there shines a light of joy,
engraving an epitaph
that will continue to glow
long after our illustrations
have returned to star dust.