the older I get

the less I think

about God as a

real possibility

not as an entity

or being but the

debate whether

it’s indifferent

or benevolent

or malevolent

at this point

I don’t care

I am going

to die regardless

of how good or

bad I was

isn’t that

the real tragedy?

isn’t that why

people get afraid?

having to let go

of this life?

the one we live

withholds no secrets

we’re

the second

syllable in

a short sentence

& I try to remember

that when I complain

about never having

enough time