Growing like a weed,
I can't describe.
How time has passed,
this all in a flash.
Yesterday held a youthful magic,
and today I stand here melanchally.
Wondering.
The age of accountability.
This burdening of liability.
I have been told that splendors are yet to come,
right down the road.
Such disregard toward the present comes to me as such a waste.
All that now I am required to turn my head away from,
The lost embrace of potential in every waking moment.
Now all time is in dedication to other things.
Things that will fade after death,
While we ignore that in which will enrich our soul's flight into the next reality.
Or even just the blissful meditations of a moment.
These all now will have to slip on passed.
Because the heart of a child must be blackened and hardened by the world with age or with age the blackness will kill the child.
But will I fight?
Will I strain to retain what I love and hold true with my golden child heart?
Or will I succumb?
...
I will succumb.
Because that is custom.
And here I will join, as a rain drop to an endless sea;
I will join the body of this world.
This world of broken souls and wish.
Embrace the treasures of before and just long...
Long to one day reunite with my former self.
One day.
I will wait.
I rest assure.