old is new

i am breathing in
time.
each inhaliation brings me closer to the end of my beginnings
or perhaps
beginning of my end

old becomes new when it is
nestled within the embrace
of existential recollections,
conversations about
how you and i defy,
and define,
time and space.

in this body i am recognized by
time and circumstance.
they move through me
turning like
leaves in an autumn breeze,
are those laugh lines?
wrinkles.

in wooden glens i am ageless
reunited with turns of phrase once shared between
souls that defy our feble attempts to understand
space and place
and purpose.

towers of oak and vines of green grow wild through
markers of existence,
framing bodily ends in wreaths of eternity
they are manifestos to the timelessnes
of love
that is reborn with each set of eyes
and voices that relive their song

old, is new.
there are no ends, and no beginnings
or, one end,
and one beginning.
choose what you will,
but i must remind you
that each establishes equivalent fear
of the unknown