Old: A Poem

Looking in the mirror and what do I see?
Whose is this face staring back at me?
Familiar in outline, but foreign in detail
Craggy, careworn features all over prevail

But who is he?

Is this me?

Inside, he feels the same small boy
Curious, quick, and ruddy of mind
Rich inside life bringing joy
But somewhere, having lost track of time

The visage reflected, as in a mirror darkly
Yet somehow still so very, very starkly

Shows one thing above all others:

The face is

Old

Noah: A Storm Is Coming

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Do you see them, there upon the horizon?

Clouds are rising.

The wind howls with a banshee screech.

The Earth shudders beneath your feet.
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Creation groans, gasping out a last sigh:

You are Noah, and the end is nigh.

Will you weather the storm, afloat upon a boat called hope?

Or will you drown, sucked down in a whirlpool tide of trials and cares?

Life and death lay before you, Noah.

What will you do? Where, who, is your ark?