Running Ahead of the Avalanche

For Gary

We can decide
That there is nothing to be done.
It is too late.

My friend, though,
Sprints into the terrible and rich
Unknown. 

It is the end, and we
Know this, but he
Engages and survives; meanwhile
I park my angst
Because there is nothing I can
Do, and now, the smallest steps,
The smallest sighs,
The smallest promises
Are as big as the world we are
About to lose
And so, for him, I do not stop.