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CYCLE OF YOUTH AND AGE





We grew up having to oblige those who had nothing

To show for growing up.  Pure events that once had

Meaning is now relegated to a consensus of maturity.



The force of life is in the greenness of the shoot where

Eagerness resides; flowering is an aftermath of this.

Yet, we do not accept children as they really are.



The garments of our progeny come from us and we

Clothe them with our own suppositions of life; this is

The lament of maturity; it tries to steal freshness lost.



We were impatient growing up and who isn’t but the

Admonishments were not against impatience; it was  

Against the improvidence of making mistakes they did.



For whose sake did we twist them at an early age? They

Were after all the beam in our eye projected onto the

Silver screen of our vain imaginings; this we come to know.



Our widowed skin shrinks and fades in old age and we

Try to make gray bread out of them in our mouths but

We learn that we can no longer speak the words for them.



We want to pluck the small healing herb of youth and place

It in a vase with angel’s breath as a marketable fruit of

equipose but this merely deadens the moment for us.



But Wadsworth Ode to Immortality tells us that this ascending

Boy is a father of the man and is neither in need of maturity nor

Instructions for life and either half of the cycle knows the other.