Youth

Youth, a conflict between the young and grey.

He crawls, He walks, He runs                       

Blindly moving, craving new funs

He runs, He runs, He runs

What could halt him, but his own ambition?

He looks left, then right

Running through rain and starlight

Down past bitter old faces,

All day and night

These faces look on, weary and lifeless,

Skin stretched, soulless husks

He fears their future, yet pities their past

Oh what bitter fate, never would he desire,

To see his own dusk

For Him, the world is still anew,

The opportunities abound, as pleasing as mid-morning dew

For wealth and riches, for fame and a muse,

He strides on, unaware that life is but a ruse

He looks back, and sees on those faces,

A thousand years of history

So he looks forward, to a sunrise

And a thousand years of mystery

May that which defines Him ever stay golden,

Unlike those stretched faces once so emboldened

It is His heart’s truth,

That which we call everlasting youth

 

Author's Note

Comment away!