Moving through the Great Spontaneous,
   Blender blades barely missing --
      In fact, sometimes nicking.

   The accumulation of those nicks
      Is aging.
   It takes an ever-defter dance to keep
       The damage buildup to a constant pace --
   Not letting it blitz one,
       Or pull one into the turbine:
           Like a goose through 
           The turbofans of a 787.
       A goose may kill a plane,
            But becomes dust in the process.
        When one surrenders to the choppers
            One will not have the satisfaction
             Of killing the vehicle,
             Of bringing it all down.
  The Universe will go on,
      And one's molecules will become
            Something new.