Sunday

44.5

I just had a half birthday of sorts
Forty-four point five years to a moment
The way I count it
I am more than half alive

Or more than half dead
Dependent on how one measures a glass
On one hand nothing has changed
Whilst every thing continuously changes

And at this juncture of reflection I have either
Done more than enough foundational assembly where
I can finally begin utilizing
Honed muscle memories and create in peace

Or I simply have not done
Nearly enough to even begin to
Whisper, "Look at me, Look at me"
As the clocks tick faster and all syncopated

Dependent on how one measures a glass
There's the life half and there is a death half
Individual differences shape individual contexts
Only the cliché of time will determine how we are judged