With music on a radio
which is on a bookcase
which is in a living room
which is in an apartment
on a hilly street in a city
in a country on a planet
in a galaxy
in a universe
that is more or less
empty

worried
for my own recovery
from a stroke
from a second stroke
from a third stroke
from a tumor
within my chest
from glaucoma
within my eyes
from chronic weight imbalances
from aging
from embracing an end
from falling into
empty

worried
for my own recovery
from depression
from guilt
from sadness multiplied by guilt
from rage disguised as
empty

knowing there is
another world
out there
another world only
a razor blade away
another world only
a fistful of pills away
another world only
this one will be
empty

I have not been this
empty
before
Never seen my way so clear
Never seen my way so perfectly
lined against a ocean
neither stormy nor calm
I am neither stormy nor calm
myself
I am resigned
I will have resigned
from a job
I did not ask for
from a career
that tugged me and nudged me this way and that
from a life
as full of joy and pain as this one has brought me
from this life
of opposing forces
I surrender to
one final
hearing of this song
one final
toe tap imperfectly rendered
one final
nodding ragged and timely to its rhythm
I shut the radio down after uttering
in English
an imperfect rendering
of Nunc Dimittis
after looking it up
and getting it
still uncertainly enough
with no confidence that I got it right
much as my heart looses its last load
into me and
becomes
empty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
T