No,
It's not that I'm getting soft
in my old age,
when I feel my eyes filling up
with hot tears for the Ukraine
or the dead squirrel over by the barn,
blurring my vision


It's because I understand the human race
- and all other races -
better
now
than when I believed in - and strived for -
a position, a career,
that would guarantee my spouse's love
and eternal life
- of course not intellectually,
but instinctively,
as understood, implied;
subconsciously,
inside the roaring origin
of my energy & strife

This race, throughout and kind by kind,
clan by tribe,
has even placed this helpless craving for forever
outside its mind space, outside of itself,
creating cruel & psychopathic deities & idols
to set up conditions for ever-lasting life

Yes,
there was no place for imminent demise then;
not for myself,
and no 100% identification
with a cat or a songbird
or my neighbour
or all my eight billion neighbours

- but now,
when it's about time
to tick off
the last of each instance,
I tremble with love & compassion
that un-complicate my feelings;
simplify my emotions
and fill my eyes with tears
that aren't expressions of sorrow,
but simply a strong identification
and a relentless empathy
with any sentient being and all,
in & out, top to bottom,
for better or for worse,
from king to beggar,
from myself to the least creepy-crawly;
and pumping in an empty clubhouse
in the back of my mind I hear:
“Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas, gas, gas!”