Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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With age comes a growing sense
of uncertainty, as weariness sets in
pains, strange feelings sluice the body
to render thoughts of shells cast up
empty, drawn, grating in the roar
of waves, or green leaves that turn
brittle, old and brown, yellow russet
then fall from trees as days shorten
grow cold, in the library of your soul
its volumes lead to mystic limits of lax
comprehension, as unknown knowledge
leaves one abandoned with very tenuous
rhetoric, platitudes, axioms, incomplete
postulates, only solipsistic comfort aids
naked, on the brink of space, held in mercy
of faith and bold courage of curiosity.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. . 4/29/2012