I don’t think about death that much.
I went through a nihilistic phase
in college, but so did everyone else.
But as I age, I’m starting to realize
that I’m in pretty good shape.
I’m healthy, and relatively strong.
And there’s a chance that I may
not so much decline as stop.
Probably not by way of heart attack,
but that’s not the point.
It’s strange to think of the end
when you feel like you’ve yet to begin.
These thoughts could change in forty years.
Maybe I’ll have done everything.
Maybe I’ll be all filled up, having
accomplished my ultimate purpose.
But maybe not. Maybe I’ll just stop.
Do you have any idea what this means?
It means I never really escaped that nihilistic
phase everyone goes through in college.
Although I do think my poetry on
the subject has improved.