“The
most you can expect is a kick in the ass,”
the
old man said, his gnarled hands firm on my arm
“the
world tells you, son, that nothing last
not
the hair on your head, not your youthful charms,
“It
goes like water running from a cracked dam
and
seeps away without the slightest clue
goes
and never comes back to your burnt hand
like
old tattered pages in the weekly news.
“the
answer is there inside of your angry brain
the
searching, the finding, the lost and the found
and
everything goes with it, even the pain
that
a life time seems to perpetually hound
“But
child, don’t rush, don’t in a haste
and
don’t let one single second go to waste.”
No comments:
Post a Comment