Eternal Weariness Poem by New Girl Dark NewGirlDark

I no longer remember how old I am,
or how many winters have passed me by.
Years touch every face around me,
yet somehow they never touch mine.

At first, it felt like a blessing.
No wrinkles upon my skin,
no trembling in my hands,
no fear of what time might bring.

But gifts can become curses,
and eternity has grown heavy.
I have watched too many sunsets,
and buried too many memories.

I have loved people whose names
now survive only in photographs.
I watched their hair turn silver,
their voices soften, their eyes fade,
while I remained exactly the same.

They used to tell me,
'You're lucky, you have all the time in the world.'
Yet they never understood
that all the time in the world
is far more than anyone should bear.

I envy the elderly.
Not for their years,
but for the peace waiting at the end of them.
One day they will rest,
while I continue walking forward.

I do not seek power.
I do not seek forever.
I only long for the simple fate
granted to every mortal soul:
to age, to grow tired,
to close my eyes one final time,
and drift quietly into silence.

Instead, each morning arrives unchanged.
The mirror offers the same reflection,
and the centuries gather around me
like dust in an abandoned room.

Everyone I love becomes a memory.
Every home becomes a ruin.
Every story reaches its ending.

Except mine.

And after all this time,
I no longer fear death.

I fear never finding it.

@newgirldark