Have we not always lived in an age
Where greed made proverbial bars on mankinds cage.
What of each identity?
At puracy, its best form – hybridity.
A hubristic denial, it is without eyes one sees
However robust a perception of without,
and within oneself feels.
The logic being what we choose to believe.
Vanity overshadows vice as it must,
virtuous views entwine eventual corrosion of character.
A will of steel, but tarnished with rust.
Brittle, eventually to crack and splinter.
Though underlying zeal shines through the gathering dust.
Eternal summer, as are all in minds eye.
Romanticisation or outright lie.
What is it all about?
Some may turn cold,
Lucky few turn old.
Like clockwork a spring of youth winds,
on words and up words lost those fallen behind.
Such is the nature of the annals of time.
Tick to tock, with fallen sand grain:
The one constant is change.
Though water goes down the drain;
Eventually it’ll surface again.
Always does in the end.
The trick, to change state
Solid ice, liquid as it flows,
and evaporating into mist as it goes.
I realized today, that the old me had gone away.
What of what was left to say?
But a temporary state, consequent loss:
A stone left unturned is covered in moss.
Now, Aloft in a daze
We have free speech
Free as a bird, fleet and fluttering.
Sometime we are better silent, than muttering.
As great men say:
“The pen is mightier than the sword. ”
One can cut just as deep wounds with words.
Without wisdom, knowledge is nothing.
there are no lessons: just suffering.
Holding on would be like a leech.
It is a race.
Second to minute to hour to day’s.
Time drips, ticks and slips away.
Constructive criticism welcome