Late Life Sprout

When we become cynical life can seem so dreadful. So full of hate, of all we've done and done to us;

When we lose innocence, in the early part of life; perhaps much later made more clear;

When we forget with what or whom we are connected, all the Universe so, if abstracted;

When we forget that first song, that made us breathe - faster and more deeply;

Was it Hendrix? Was it Bowie? Or by chance some Bach played slowly.

When we began at first to love, but then to have its world on us cave in;

When we realized it was all a dream; some concoction, another hateful co-dependent scheme;

When we finally grew up, but then in a sights grow clear a specter of Death looming near;

When we gently as a feather put, our heads on pillow to admit,

There's something greater just out there;

All we have to do is share.



By Wu Sharman