the old man rants at progress
what you consume consumes you,
becomes the hill you die on, the flag
you wave to rally your emotions,
give you meaning, help you connect
to others just as wrapped up as you
& maybe beneath those layers of
adjectives you don't know who you
are besides another scared naked
human fighting the existential void
that devours us all after 60 to 90 years
& you can bet it'll get you too despite
how tight you cling to the life you've
made & claim for yourself because faith
is a promise no one can prove they
can collect so run all you want from
the zealots you hate into the arms
of the zealots you embrace: we're all
bastards afraid of the glowering dark