Country not for old men

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Do old people just wither and quietly pass away
Or do they do so with a lot of fanfare
Is it a slow symphony that dies
Or an orchestra that climaxes and then doesn't really end
How does one distinguish the drama from the real story
What is the story between the lines of a grave
Prolonged, painful illness or an exit in sleep
And where do memories reside
The past is irrefutable, unchangeable in its existence
Yet completely malleable in its interpretation
Where do memories reside
Are they deep within, unstirred, or do they stir up like ashes when there is a breeze
How much of the present includes the past
How much of it indicates the future
And how much of this is known to us
And then there are genes




Acknowledgment: Drafted with Alya Mian. Inspired by T.S. Eliot's 'four quartets'.  

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