Monday, July 25, 2011

Day 339, growing older

It's a crystal cut finality
This aging we call older
Acid tears that etch
The texture of our selves
From translucent and faceless
To timeless and worthy
Every joy and challenge
A new groove in the smooth faced
Perfection of ignorance

Without the shallow canyons
Of experience cut and polished
There would be no snare
For the fickle light to hide
And no contrast
Therefore no glittering reflection
To tell someone the goodness
Of this age
The wise, slow way that aches
Carve delicate the pattern
That makes this one wild life matter

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