Yearn gray hair in shadow,

The terrorizing mirror,

Life’s relenting harrow,

Rinse/repeat to here–

 . . . feels futile forty years on . . . what a welcomed exhaustion.

This’s a place holder for an Essay I rewrote six or seven times for May the Fourth, Revenge of the Fifth, and the Synthesization of both on the Sixth and Seventh. But, in case I never tame it’s verbosity or minimize its emanating enantiodromic existential excessiveness, above’s a poem I wrote.

“Live, Laugh, Love”

– Some towel rack at Hobby Lobby

-Matt