friend of the void

I had a dream that all of a sudden my hands were aged and wrinkled,

with sandpaper skin and thick calluses on my fingertips.

I could not feel what I touched, 

and therefore nothing ever touched me anymore. 

This dream was unsettling for the obvious reasons.

Although I do not fear growing old,

I do fear becoming fragile and brittle.

But more than that, most of all 

I fear the numbness I try to tame to the best of my abilities. 

Nothing haunts me like the void 

but in my deepest dreams

I wonder whether this is what it means to grow old. 

To become friends with the emptiness,

to be frail and crumbling,

vanishing but tough, utterly numb to the world,

and free of any pain. 

Alone, 

but at least not in bad company.