Incurable disease
January 2013
Michael Gollin

I was born with a terminal disease,
Progressive and incurable.
What can I do but live with it?
And live well, as long as I am able.

One day will be my last,
But not today,
There’s too much to eat and drink
and learn and fix and say.

There’s no mystery at all,
If you look at things up close.
The truth is there for you to see,
Right before your nose.

Some things last forever,
Land and sky and sea,
But living things are born to die
Insects, plants, and me.

You, too, have the dread disease,
The one without a cure.
So we must both find joy
and live our lives, as long as we endure.

So how to live with purpose, then?
Prepare for what life brings you.
Enjoy the good, improve the bad,
And help others do so, too.