a forcast

Somewhere in Sukhumvit,
an Indian man shared me a piece
of my future,
and once again I am reminded of
the shortness of my life;
as if seeing my grandfather's
headstone, bearing my name,
at the age of eight
wasn't enough.

(i wrote this poem around the beginning of the year. i was in thailand for about a week when i this happened to me. also, for the uninformed readers, my full name, "myron russell brown" is the same name as my grandfather. my father wanted his first born son to have the same name as his father, so i was aptly named in his honor. my grandfather died in 1993 when i was eight. even though i am a believer, i'm young. moments like this remind me that i have a short time on earth....

also, i originally wanted to use the word "shortening" in place of the word "shortness." however, seeing that the word "shortening" isn't quite appropriate for the context, i made the change. but, "shortening" somehow did have an effect on me. sometimes the english language can be an inefficient tool for communicating thoughts and poems.)