• The Boy and the Old Man •

How frail can it be, the body,

Yet the mind wanders like a hurricane,

From East to West,

And there we returned to our initial position: how frail can it be?

Be it, life.

Be it, body or be it, love,

You’re entering a new phase,

And yet I’ve just started mine,

With a mind filled with questions:

How frail can it be?

Walking through the veil,

The creations unfold before me,

How magnificent the lake reflecting the majestic rays,

Yet unsatisfied with the wonders that deliver nothing but an abstract.

If answers were written on the altar,

Everything would be plain,

Yet if life was that frail,

What’s being abstract was merely beautiful, nothing further.

Discovered as the old man has,

Is intriguing to the boy,

Yet the boy is still an infant with himself confined, uncircumcised,

What he has experienced is only a part of a whole,

Certainly, more will unravel when the veil falls,

And truth be seen in complete,

In horror or unsurprised,

Depending on the amount of tears cost.

— PurplePen