Time Prances Bye

I remember back before I turned ten
I though reaching double digits would make the King of the Lion’s Den
Surpassing my teens would make me a Bodhisattva Master of Zen
A supercentenarian monument like Big Ben
A formidable force like a commando with a Sten
Or a disaster waiting to happen like London before Christopher Wren

Teenagers seemed so very old
Horrifying and very cold
“Some day you’ll be one” so I was told
That statement seemed incomprehensibly bold
I lived my life and let the years unfold
Time ain’t a thing to be bought or sold
Some moments are shit and others are gold

Here I am four months into my third decade
Observing the life that I’ve made
I been pondering this since eleventh grade
When my college plans were first outlaid
“I signed you up for Running Start” my mom said
A few prior years college seemed distant as being dead

The more I learn and the more I know
The more I’m aware of what I don’t know
My knowledge of some things may far surpass your Average Joe
And in other fields it falls behind the Stooge named Moe

I now know the problem is not the problem
but the problem is my attitude about the problem
or sometimes that I perceive the problem to be a problem

Heaven and Earth contain more things than are permitted by my philosophy
When I see them I always find a new way to see
But that is just part of me
A sadder still wiser man I must be
On an eternal pilgrimage like the Divine Alighieri
Seeking out new challenges a la Miyamoto Musashi
Perhaps someday I’ll mentor the next generation like Ezio Auditore da Firenze

In retrospect my childhood seems
Like a collection of distant dreams
As time zooms by like light beams

Chronos is the god better known as Time
Doing his work not unlike a mime
He values our collective lives less than a dime
It can take fifteen minutes to pick a good rhyme

Chronos has a scythe he loves to to wield
Like the peasants and Levin in the open field
Levin connected to nature and his wounds were healed

We’re all in this together just ignore Ayn Rand
Things never go exactly as planned
Never predict what’ll take off or get canned
The Voodoo Child said life’s a castle made of sand

Death will come it’s not a matter of if but when, how and why
And how many people are going to cry
Time prances bye
Then disappears in a hole in the sky

https://en.blog.wordpress.com/2014/04/01/napowrimo-2014/
http://www.napowrimo.net/

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