I was thinking of my grandfathers future

I know he was a boxer in the navy in ww2, and on his character report, it says v. Good

And little other pieces of him like he liked to talk back at the television like me

But no one’s ever really filled in his personality, except one can infer, he was decent, cared

About society. Yesterday, I looked at my mother, and thought about the future, my own futilty

I recalled her saying at the end of his life in his early 50s, after his stroke and he couldn’t

Talk, he just lay there weeping, and gave up, and you think that and he survived ww2.

I made a guess: did he see the future during his stroke? His heart broke. The future

And all his strength, where did it go? Did it flee before the terrifying future?

And all his boxing and military training were as nothing against the future, he could not

Stop. And his masculinity? Powerless. And all his principles? About to die.

And despite his life, what could he do against the corruption that sets in before Death?

He cried, like a baby, in the end, wanting some comfort, some salvation, from his Life,

Except the future he saw, the nazi ascension, that eclipsed humanity, our courage,

Our principles, our character reports of v. Good, all that remains, of humankind’s

Pulse. And he couldn’t stop it, he saw Death. The Chinese say we are but as straw dogs to the gods,

But I believe his heart lives, thru this mortal coil, and I’ve fallen in love, and all

I see is corruption, and I love, and can I not yet love, and be a v. Good character thru grandas

Lament, sent Love’s song thru my pulse, mortality’s impulse to live, I ask the gods, a vision

One perhaps couldn’t hear her soft voice over the hate parade, shes become the woman i love,

Her Mysterious voice sings our blood to us, her song carries thru the universe’s mortal coil

Of human impulse, of her triumphant Love of us, that in Death we love: don’t give up hope