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grey spots abound.

I am going blind.

Not all at once, but
slowly, slowly
bit by bit
pieces of a puzzle
tossed to the abyss.

And it could be a year, or
it could be a decade, or
maybe I get lucky
and it will all be

Not
That
Bad.

But now I can't drive
and reading hurts my head
photography is guesswork
so I paint things instead.

I cannot know
what I will lose
until I have lost it,

but I do know
that art, like life,
finds a way

and I refuse to lose
the things I do
that make me feel alive.

With a world less bright
then just out of spite
I might even find the will to thrive.