ageing gracefully - together

at my age in a loving relationship the same basic questions arise first as always:
can we feel well together enough, can we live without discussing each step but respect our differences, can we bear to be near and can we find trust and sometimes joy in intimacy?
from the first and free flow of inspiration and the touch of intuition in soul, can we step ahead
and in spite of thinking want to go on and more together?
will we end telling each other 'you are always like this or that'-the end of growth and space.
the process is complex and often hard.
all of us know.
at my age another question comes up and it is fundamental.
this is beyond love and respect for another singularity.
i cannot age gracefully with a woman with whom i cannot first share intimacy
and know by experience i am loved as a person , can be me, in bed too, before i will have to leave parts of this intimacy due to frailty and age. leaving it out before will make staying together a prison in which i have to hide as a foreign body, unable to ask for a hand to help me.
and this means what it means for me,
to see future out of present.
then better to stay alone.

o danca entre o sim o não

poem by Antonio Ramos Rosa

behind the horizon

i am so broken and sore, i find no bush to hide and no hill to climb.
space is shrinking and closing in on me-i cannot speak.
my tongue must stay stuck as me, soon i will be mute.

today i looked out at sea, the horizon hiding all what may be behind,
more waste land, more deserts and monotonous sea without hope.


this is how i am, raw as an opened egg. no shelter, no protection anymore
and  near perishing, no chicken will crawl out here anymore, no seed grow.

i could find a way out alone, but alone i cannot find another way than out.

i may grow into a bitter old man.
i am grateful and can be mindful and respect each spark of life
and feel compassion with all prisoners and suffering beings-
still i feel too much alone.

i cannot speak.
i am lost.
again pushed and falling into my sadness.

i am missing my innocence, my joy, my flow.
me.
after all deconstruction, now
in all  construction: i am not there.
when i am present: i must be silent.

i try, for a while.
i see the lizards, the plants greening in salty sand.
then i die.
i hope with a smile, with relief.