Old Order

Old order is subject to decay,
they say, and when fate summons,
old statues fall freely. Heart-held loves,
friends, hatreds, foes: all. Yes, all
give way to mighty time’s sway.

Bright, fearless, grand, green youthful years
with each passing year grow
thick wisdom layers, while marching on its way,
time fills with fears the cup full of joy
and life eternal. Wisdom and fear
almost lose their powers when time is stretched
and moments go eternal.

Eyes look ahead, searching for a vague something,
for what tomorrow, the day after that;
the months after that have in store. Hoping,
all the time hoping. The year ahead is made of tomorrows,
each day an unknown treasure,
exciting, thrilling, inviting.

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