i'm not disappointed by your dying beauty,
we are all freefalling through a warzone.
we carry nothing on our backs
but the accumulated atmosphere we fall through.
and as the density of this world grows upon us,
the sharpness of descent is punishing, more and more!
whatever your stories, you are weathered by them.
i look at your updated profile and i know the score.
i'm sure its only your skin telling this one story,
of slow steady dying, of aging to terminal velocity,
because you inside are not yet aware,
because you've always been doing it, slow and steady,
and you still have the roundness of your youth,
the color of your hair, the shine of your skin,
and the yet unconquered ideal of eternity
from which you are falling---you are still beautiful.
i promise, that as you zero in to your own personal death,
as you near the end of your campaign,
as the warzone atmosphere and its flack
attempts to destroy your face with age and care and forgetfulness,
i shall look upon you without disappointment.
for we are all zeroing from the heights,
all fast approaching the end, and though you may never see its profile,
you can always reach out and expect my hand.
whether you know this now or never do,
it still is a truth that is part of you,
that in this descent of ours, we are now a framework alive,
together links in a net, together the undying human skin,
a body larger and more beautiful and growing still
beyond our own limits. and someday in the future,
though the beauty of body, yours and mine, may fade,
this net we are making shall save us all from void.