Our youth will pass
And our looks will wither.
We’ll discover that our wisdom
Was the confidence of fools,
That fame was fickle
And wealth coundn’t pay for happiness
Or bribe away all sickness.
Hearts will grow weary of passion,
Limbs will ache with dreams of paths un-tread,
And our eyes too often
Will be denied their sleep.
As our autumn distills into winter
We’ll forget to grieve
For those childish beginnings
When we surrendered, unafraid
And dared to be free,
Crazy in love.
*
vic briggs 
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So many truths in so few words. 😉
Would you believe it, I started writing about happiness… and half way through something broke and my fingers took hold and decided they wanted to go elsewhere. Sometimes those truths break through from the undercurrent and will not stop until they reach the surface.
Haha. I find staying on the happiness train doesn’t work too well. I always change tracks!
I know that feeling. For the present predicament I blame Bertie (you may have read about him: tricky customer – character of mine). He’s been in a foul mood and stalling my plot for too long. I kept trying to get into his head to figure out what the problem was, but it looks like he did a better job of getting into mine.
Wow…beautiful
Thank you. I am pleased you found it beautiful.
Very true and beautifully expressed
Thank you, Jackie. Hope all is well.
wow…I enjoyed reading this…my best lines were “we will discover that our wisdom was the confidence of fools”. real wisdom comes with age and from the experiences learnt from life lessons…years down the line we will laugh at the logic behind some of our choices earlier on
That is true, we often look back at our younger selves and can’t quite believe some of the choices we made, and yet I hope we’ll keep hold of our hopeful beginnings. Thank you, topazo.
Truly found joy in this one. Probably for different reasons than you wrote it, but I felt it very deeply.
The inspiration for this poem has its source in so many associations that I would struggle to pinpoint each and every one of them. A part came in a dream, a part from something else I was working on, and a part from somewhere that lay hidden even from myself.
I am glad you found joy in this poem, Susan.
This was beautiful, Vic. You are so expressive.
It is amazing at times how a poem can subvert our will and find its own path. The process does’t fail to surprise me every time. Thank you, Lisa.