These Hands- These Eyes- This Mind Poem by Joseph D E Phillips

When these forgotten hands begin to wither,
bereaved and shaking they will grab their pen
and, with it, scribble nonsense on a page.
Then, in frustration, they will cast the pen
at such a mark, which marked the end of writing.

So, lacking means to write, these eyes will read
of long forgotten love on ancient pages.
There they will find their youth. There they will dwell
until time's cruel fog lays upon each iris,
and such a fog will fog the end of reading.

This mind, alone, without the help of these,
will reach across the cosmic universe
and craft a world of transcendental dreams,
but, watching age inflict the minds of others,
I shan't abandon that it might erode

and such erosion eats my reason
for breathing at all.