Youth
can be fickle to fritter away
All
that infinite energy
Wasted
on play.
Trashed
and tired at the end of the day
To
sleep without worries or cares.
Pity
that time comes to shatter fond dreams,
To
realize life’s
Not
at all as it seems,
Filled
with toil, stress and struggles
To
disconnect schemes with
Recurrence
that hardly seems fair.
Now,
as I grow older, I seldom regret
All
the blather and bother,
The
fuss and the fret that
Once
gave me to fury
When
viewed as a threat and
Suffered
this fool at his play.
I
breathe a deep sigh,
Meet
the foe eye to eye,
Find
the calm and compassion that’s
Always
nearby.
Let
the madness dissolve
To
a crystalline sky.
Mulling
softly
Til
it all goes away.
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