They say that wisdom
Comes with age
But that sometimes
Age comes alone
When I shall be old
Shall I become
The essential me?
A gathering of mossOr a shedding of dross?
The wizening mirror reaves
Or only leaves what has value?
The loss of gender
The return of innocence
Do I gain the masculine
Or just lose the feminine?
Do I become blind to evil
Or just put it into perspective?
The bald little baby
Untidy folds of skin
Neither ladylike nor manly
Penetrating eyes of the wise fool
Judging all without judgment
Capricious cries proclaiming needs
Both banal and transcendent
Do those who cling to youth
Fear that essential self?
That it be cruel, or vapid?
All they once loved about themselves
All that was cool and hip and sexy
Ground by the millstone of time
Chaff, husks, petals, pollen, lacy coverings
All blown away
No more inside jokes
No more adoring crowds
No more pretense
And finally
No past, no future
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