We know so little when we’re young, inspired
The words we’d speak but lack the wit to form,
Before the wisdom comes we’re old, grown tired

The energies and dreams ambitions fired
Are trapped by untaught rhetoric, unborn
We know so little when we’re young, inspired

Disillusioned by what we desired,
Eager striving sours to weary scorn.
Before the wisdom comes we’re old, grown tired.

All plans and all intentions, so soon mired
Into a web of ritual aging storm:
“We know so little when we’re young, inspired.”

In time we mock the ideals we once squired
As Don Quixotes chasing fireflies, born
Before the wisdom comes.  We’re old, grown tired.

And as those visions one by one are pyred
The endless lines of stars turned ashes form.
We know so little when we’re young, inspired:
Before the wisdom comes we’re old, grown tired.

© Julia F. Varnell-Sarjeant 2011