As men and ages slowly fade to dust,
And worldly countenance gives way to change;
In wayward youth we place tomorrow’s trust,
While aged men look on in silent rage.
When facing where the arc of life is bound—
Where lies the wisdom of our yesteryears?
Why should the pace of time our hope impound?
Or rapid change fill rigid mind with fear?
That wisdom comes with age is often told,
But with it come restricted vision too;
‘Tis youth that spawns tomorrow’s righteous old,
And in so doing, stirs old strife anew;
Thus through the course of time this story wends,
To but begin again before it ends.

© Loubert S Suddaby.  All Rights Reserved.