160. On his illness
When in a crisis situation my health fails me
and I crawl decrepitly on all fours to clean up my devastation,
the annihilating horrible reality of my incontinence,
I can but cry in misery about how utterly unworthy I am now,
an ageing clown no longer in control and charge of his own body,
maybe the beginning of a lifelong downhill degradation
and humiliation leading down into some black hole
of the final tragedy, the inescapable defeat,
the ruin that awaits us all in the conclusive demolition
of our life, all that we lived for, our identity and personality
and even all our memories, experience and deserts;
but one thing must remain untouched by all this misery,
and that is love, of course, untouchable, serene and incorruptible,
which on its own alone shall ever conquer all
that ever even tried to bring it down.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-09-01 at 19:41
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