No,

It's not that I'm getting soft

in my old age,

when I feel my eyes filling up

with hot tears for the Ukraine

or the dead scuirrel over by the barn,

blurring my vision

It's because I understand the human race

- and all other races -

better

now

than when I believed in - and strived for -

a position, a career,

that would guarantee my spouse's love

and eternal life

- of course not intellectually,

but instinctively,

as understood, implied;

subconsciously,

inside the roaring origin

of my energy & strife

This race, throughout and kind by kind,

clan by tribe,

has even placed this helpless craving for forever

outside its mind space, outside of itself,

creating cruel & psychopathic deities & idols

to set up conditions for ever-lasting life

Yes,

there was no place for imminent demise then;

not for myself,

and no 100% identification

with a cat or a songbird

or my neighbour

or all my eight billion neighbours

- but now,

when it's about time

to tick off

the last of each instance,

I tremble with love & compassion

that un-complicate my feelings;

simplify my emotions

and fill my eyes with tears

that aren't expressions of sorrow,

but simply a strong identification

and a relentless empathy

with any sentient being and all,

in & out, top to bottom,

for better or for worse,

from king to beggar,

from myself to the least creepy-crawly;

and pumping in an empty clubhouse

in the back of my mind I hear:
“Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas, gas, gas!”