Now closer to death than birth…
I’m still questioning worth.
Wisdom’s patina, I wear.
However, the core’s still there.
My kingdom for new O.S.
Something in line with my best.
Time is about accepting.
Rare, it’s about correcting.
Nourishing layered lichens.
Poison, my biome siphons.
Every ring’s inside me still.
Each new one: survival skill.
I’ve a weary wistful crown.
It reminds me to look down.
I’m metal, water & wood.
I’m them, I’m me & I should.

