Ph: Faith: Growing Old - The Loneliest Art? Poem by Brian Johnston

I don't fear growing old though each year brings both loss and fresh pain
But if God's real or not, with my death, both will end, and I gain
What I trust will be peace. But if death's all there is, can I miss
The day's sun, the rain's smell, rainbow's grace, love's skin's touch, or a kiss?

God grant heaven exists, and death dies! Who would mourn what gets lost
That eternity promises soon to restore without cost?
But I swear, on this plane growing old seems the loneliest art,
Hard to share but through words, and can rhymes cast so late play a part?

How do old share their path for most friends in this life are old too
And to young lost in jobs and success, old folks live in a zoo!
What's to envy at all, lives of seniors seem small in their cage.
What to do, for though heart might still roam, past life feels like a page.

Can real shelter be found, love or wisdom then shared? Do you care?
Astronomical odds death is cold, and God never was there?
But for me, thought of God, the Creator makes infinite sense
Fills all loneliness up, makes the grave, if not Satan, past tense!

Still, it's hard to ignore, as we age human sex redefined,
And though cuddling is great, no one thinks theft of orgasm's kind!
Smell and taste slowly dim as our vices and pleasures all fade,
Life-long friends drop like flies, for some dentures will make 'hit parade.'

Though with friends by your side in man's will you are always alone,
In Christ's death and God's Grace man is saved though his works can't atone!


Brian Johnston
17th of January 2019