Young folks look at old folks,
No longer in or cool.
Smart phones, tablets, television games, FaceBook
Are more to their school.
I’m just full to bursting with curiosity:
When you look my way, I wonder, what do you really see?
Do you see an author, poet, or just an old, aging man?
One day you’ll age, too, and begin to understand.
I hope in your aging you become very wise,
Then you’ll see what I see through these older eyes.
I know you don’t know me and really have no clues.
You haven’t walked one step, let alone countless miles, in my shoes.
Once like you, I was young with an attitude of devil-may-care,
Dancing and flirting with pretty girls and very hard to scare.
Today you dance to Hip Hop, but if I may be so bold:
Chuck Berry, Fats Domino and Elvis gave us our music – called Rock and Roll.
I’ve traveled many roads, accomplished many things.
It all happened so very fast, I believe my feet had wings.
Life unfolded before me and holds me tightly in her embrace.
Wonders and tragedies etched these lines you see in my face.
Don’t try to put us all in wheel chairs or surround us with a fence.
You see, we possess knowledge you’ll need, but most of all experience.
Unlike you, there was no one around to guide, tell or show me
The secrets they had found.
I know you’re full of vitality and vinegar with energy to burn.
You have an itch you can’t scratch and hate to await your turn.
Good things come to those who wait,
Just one more thing you’ll learn.
So much to learn, so little time, and later you’ll realize my words ring true.
You’ll probably wish you had listened better before your trails are through.
So now my question begs an answer:
What do you really see when you look at me?
There are so many, I know not where to start.
As I sit quietly and reflect,
My wondering thoughts and memories to collect,
Memories stir in my consciousness which awaken my heart.
Foolish words and deeds,
Poor choices made in youth without reason,
Like layers of paint on the wall
Add up, season after season.
Young and crazy, detached and aloof,
Speaking lies, innuendo, trash without proof.
Age brings wisdom.
Reflection brings enlightenment.
Rake not among old bones, searching for the truth.
If you receive a blessing, give thanks with your mouth.
It matters not where you are from…north, east, west, or south.
Blessings are not always recognized as such in the beginning.
Smile, and never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Sometimes, we do the right things for the wrong reason.
Sometimes, we do the wrong things for the wrong reason.
Try to do the right things for the right reason.
The end result will be so much more satisfying and pleasing.
Mistakes are the building blocks of experience it seems.
When we try to achieve a thing, sometimes we make mistakes.
Learning from our errors enables us to overcome,
Allowing us to move forward, fulfilling our hopes and dreams.
When done right, we live to age and grow old.
Aging is not for the faint of heart, at least so I’m told.
A heavy conscience of wrong choices builds memories to prick the soul.
Good memories and experiences are more precious than finest gold.
Tags: age, aging, awaken, Blessings, choices, conscience, enlightenmnet, foolish, Knowledge, Learning, metaphysics, mistakes, New Age, New Thought, pleasing, poem, Poetry, Reason, reflection, Religion and Spirituality, satisfying, slow progress, Thoughts, Truth, trying, Understanding, wisdom, youth
Before your eyes, here I stand,
The outer shell projects an older man.
If you could look inside, you would see
A younger, happy person, trying to be.
You’re young outside, while outside I’m old.
Your years are in metamorphosis; my years are gold.
These lines you see etched in my face
Are but a war map of life as I’ve run my race.
Your years are in front of you; mine are behind.
Who’s better off? It’s all in the mind.
You’re entangled in cell phones and Facebook, an electronic age,
Leaving no time for wise words of a sage.
Like Lemmings by the millions rushing to the sea,
You Tweet and text, playing games on Xbox and TV.
Your life will slide by unnoticed by you.
You’ll wonder where it went, just like I do.
Yes, your face will wrinkle and your hair will turn grey.
You’ll be amazed at the image your mirror portrays.
How was your life? Was it well-lived?
Did you prosper and marry? Did you forgive?
What did you accomplish? What have you to show?
What will you leave behind when it’s time to go?
In my twilight years, I wait to become and to be.
When you look at me, honestly, what do you see?