Events have produced
A perfect concatenation of discomfort.
My body is now aswirl with wild radiating pain
From the mundane acts of attempting to rise
Or taking a breath.
My mind is filled with heated clouds and seizured fancies
With little accompanying surcease or rest.
Yet I do not suffer overmuch.
The foreknowledge of falls, fevers, and failing health
Has been a gift granted to me since a child.
Unsure if these would be my lot
Or if I would struck down by a sudden catastrophic blow,
I did not anticipate reaching this age.
Belying my private expectations, I have done so.
The structures of wonder and appreciation
I endeavored to build even so shelter me now.
And I remember that yesterday you took my hand.
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