The concept
of age
is a useless and distracting idea,
serving only to justify many wasted years
and to infect with forgetfulness,
until years later—too late perhaps—
the knowledge of ones ever-present
and impending vulnerability
to the condition of ones birth
as being chosen
to live to die or die to live,
which is saying the same thing.
With youth, we have an illusory power
over the end to come,
anticipated to be many years still.
Not surprising then that we are often
caught unaware,
for if it were left to us,
we would swim
in the delightful ocean of forgetfulness forever,
devaluing the importance of our time,
of the responsibility to make every moment count.