I suspect I am all I will ever be.
I continue dreaming,
but I’ve stopped hoping.
Such is the strain of gazing through a glass, darkly.
Do you hope?
Do you dream?
What do you suspect lies beyond the reach of light?
Poet’s Notes and Questions for Discussion
Do you ever experience sudden pangs of mortality, not to be confused with immediate physical threats? Rather, these are just moments, often calm and free of distraction, when you experience a lament for the passing of time mingled perhaps with regret. How do you handle such moments of angst?
The above poem came about as the voiceover to some cat video I posted on Instagram. Watch the short reel here (featuring my highly contemplative orange cat, and complete with underscore using Star Trek: The Next Generation’s “Inner Light” theme). You may need to unmute the reel after clicking the link. The scripture referenced in this chiasmus poem is from 1 Corinthians 13:12 (KJV).
Wheat & Tares 
Jake, you asked: “Do you ever experience sudden pangs of mortality…when you experience a lament for the passing of time mingled perhaps with regret. How do you handle such moments of angst?” Yes, I do, fairly often. Change is challenging for me. I lament times gone by and people who have passed on. How do I handle it? I feel the feels. I write. I listen to music that frees unshed tears. I’ve learned to be more present each day, and to accept that indeed, it is too late for some things (contrary to popular opinion).