The frigid air awakes the memory
Before the snare of modern time was heard,
The child’s song, so full of mystery,
What ere went wrong, the silence of a word.
The simple life was never once his goal,
He wanted strife, a combat of the bold,
He longed for life to grow, become the whole,
And victory to flow, not ever old.
Yet now he stands aloft, not changed much,
His heart still longs for more, not satisfied,
But now his goal is age, and wisdom such,
His youth of spirit in its full has died.
This loss he mourns yet cannot ere describe,
It shall remain the mystery of life.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 2, 2006