.51

Dreams on the horizon feels like anxiety in the now.
I catch fear passing a window.
The glass reflects my wandering soul.
A picket white fence in the distance unfolds the maze of life close to me.
The now is frightening; the now is cold.
A wave of aging flows over me, dive in or resist.
Head first or don’t survive.
Coming up for a breath of hope.
A young mind, an elderly body, stuck on the edge of serious words.
My heart grows stronger, my soul fuller, my body suffering from doubt.
Gasp for air before you go in.