Didn’t realize it was my time — I’d missed the EXIT sign…
Original DDE™ art: “I Wonder…” — by: rob kistner © 3/6/26.
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somewhere
in the journals of life
a number was written—
was written beside my name—
a quiet prediction
made by statisticians
and the calendars of time—
my shelf life
seventy seven years…
seventy eight—
seventy nine perhaps
a tidy place for me
to fold my map—
leave—
and they close my door
but…
my door never closed—
well — never stayed closed…
instead
it reopened—
I stepped through
walking on
beneath fluorescent skies—
my breath again moving
in and out—
so I move on—
beyond my use by date
…day after day
…week after week
…month after month
…now a couple years passed by
I missed the announcement
to please exit quietly—
so I remain—
making my way…
like an old dog
that refuses to leave the porch
now
like an old dog
my bones complain
like old wood in winter
my stomach grumbles—
flatulence has become
an annoying friend
fatigue drapes itself
over my afternoons
the earth’s begun to wobble a bit
so I watch my steps—
which are fewer now
the sun still rises
with stubborn ceremony
clouds drift the same
as they did when I was twenty—
wind still moves
through the branches
high in the trees…
as if practicing nature’s musical—
birthday candles still sell—
I just sit here
wondering—
not why pain exists…
not why time carries on…
not about its heavy gravity…
not about angels on pinheads…
but why
my small flame of breath
still leans toward tomorrow
no answer arrives
only morning after morning
opening its quiet hand—
placing another hour in mine
as if it had always meant to
I feel my road should have ended—
I now travel borrowed miles
I suspect
there was once a ledger somewhere—
a neat column of years
of miles
allotted to me—
my expiration date
a careful estimate
drawn up by invisible clerks
of probability
that column must’ve ended—
but my road
has not
it keeps stretching forward—
through ordinary days…
through their fluctuating length…
through season upon season…
through rain tapping upon the roof…
through the soft blue television light
of insomnia’s midnights
my body still carries
a caravan of complaints—
bones creak—
my recall is at times
a lost distracted child—
energy wanders off
like a tired guest
still
my heart—
that stubborn drummer—
continues its slow dirge…
sometimes in irregular rhythm
inside its quiet cavern of ribs
I walk unsteadily
very carefully now
through each morning
the air tastes the same
as it did in younger seasons—
cold…
bright…
intoxicating
birds continue crossing the sky
without consulting any statistics
light spills through windows
flooding across my floor
day after day—
increasing and decreasing
with extravagant generosity—
time continues
upon its relentless way—
but I realize
these extra miles I enjoy
are not owed to me—
they are only
borrowed distance—
in borrowed time
unexpected road…
beyond the place
where my map was meant to end—
where my journal was meant to close
so I move on—
…gently
…gratefully
…awkwardly
…and most curious—
like every human
who has ever
walked this beautiful earth—
wondering
—just how far
my road ahead
is willing to stretch—
how far the horizon
is willing
to keep stepping back—
how much time
have I truly been allotted—
…when does my journal finally close?
I wonder…
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rob kistner © 03/7/26