The Time Traveller's Wisdom

Young man,
let not your closed minded peers
lead you down
the well worn path of ruin;
writing yourself is the most
heroic of endeavours.
The poet invites
Death to his table
in stubborn inquisition,
spits in His skeletal face
only to live another day.
The poet laughs as his heart
is forcibly torn apart, and
longingly begs for more
when ridiculed and shamed
as that is where his treasure is.

Young man,
find a woman
who searches between reality
to find herself daily -
she is the most beautiful,
powerful of women.
One who's love
is as deep as demise,
one who's sex
will always surprise.
Let her lead you
down the brilliant depths
you yourself can not navigate
as fear and sadness line the caverns -
a man's darkness
is but a child's worry
to her inspiring light.

Young man,
listen to your mother.
You can be sure
that she speaks strictly
the language of angels,
as there is no love
more pure or self-sacrificing.
As for your father,
learn to forgive
as he simply wishes
to sharpen iron with iron.

Young man,
I wish to impart
the greatest lesson
of them all:
learn to dance freely.
Trust me.
the voyage one takes
through their spirit
amounts to a singular truth
commonly spoken
but hardly found -
be utterly present
in the moment.

Young man,
I speak with tears in my eyes.
you will not listen
to practical wisdom, and
in ten years time
you'll be writing
letters to yourself
knowing it all works out
in the end anyway.

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.