And something’s died inside of you,
Or, else, it’s been replaced
By that in whose long face you flew
Because it lacked good taste.
You roam around from day to day
And let the time go by
As if there were no other way,
Which may not be a lie.
But, once, you held the master key
To all of being’s doors;
You knew how life was meant to be
And waged impartial wars.
Yet, nowadays, your mind’s at peace –
A foretaste of the great release.
Photo by Zachary Delorenzo on Unsplash
Maturity
