The Beauty of Wisdom

April 8, 2018
By , Annapolis, MD

All of these lines that cross my face will speak
Creases so defined will tell of my past
Oh so bleak is the color in my cheek
I do not know of one thing that will last
Will there come a day when my soul shall rest?
How harsh the burdens this body carries
Nagging at me is an unwelcomed pest
Will I go? The answer always varies
Hiking this trail, each step feels much steeper
With time my spirit has begun to rot
Grey hairs stem from roots that go far deeper
Suddenly, I know what’s petty and not
    Content I’ll sit and at peace all aglow
    Life with perspective of what I now know

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