Lines in the Mirror

There’s a new line in the mirror and it lies on an old, worn, and hollow face..

Another year disappears like a sunken ship swallowed up in a rogue wave..

No modern medicines can heal each wound time carves out with its thin blade..

Then with selfish futility we look at the depressions made in our skin with rage..

We use silly creams and injections in an attempt to hide the blessing of old age..

But in reality, the most scarred old life soldiers comprise the heart of our brigade..

They’ve loved and suffered to see mother nature give birth to the sun every single day..

The fabric of history written in flesh, their story told as old cells mingle and decay..

An earned human portrait of existence itself written in the universal language of DNA..

I’ve learned to accept my lines in the mirror as time molds my body like wet pliable clay..

I stared at the reflection that appeared and defined the fear as watching hours sliding away..

But once I acknowledged their importance the hours didn’t seem like a loss, but instead a gain..

Because every hour conquered and wrapped in chains makes the next lesson in line that much more pleasurable to attain!