Oh!

Sensibilities are not always sensible, 
At least this is said by those that find 
One of yours with which they disagree 


So, 
Understandings are not always understandable 
To those who can’t grasp them 
Or fear that if taken seriously, they would need to 
Go.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder 
Or for the vision impaired, in their mind’s eye 
Which has a lid all its own that can be shut 
To escape the risks inherent if one is to 
Know.

Chronological aging brings nothing but 
Getting older and guarantees little if anything else 
Unless the aging self remains invested in wanting to 
Grow. 
The more we spend, the more we have 
But the more we buy, the more we 
Owe. 
Oh, no!

The flowing of the growing comes with the knowing 
That seeds are inanimate until they experience sowing. 
The propensity to derive meaning 
In the rhyming and rhythm of word weaving 
Taps me gently on the back 
As I am stealthfully leaving 
With shallow breaths and heavy thoughts heaving 
Preparing, at long last, to 
Go.

Oh, do not ask “Why?” 
Let us just bid each other 
A gentle “Goodbye.”