Sweet 16

  Look at them. Aren't they wonderful. They're so young, they're so bright... Switched on and agile. They float across the surface of life's lake like rare beautiful birds, their feathers golden and their hearts singing. Mental gymnasts they are. Willing to bend in philosophy and in thought. Limmber and ready for the climb that awaits. That's what makes them so wonderful, bbrimming with brio. Exploding stars, magnificent and timeless, and not yet even fully understanding of their own declines some day in the future. ... Me, I am sluggish now. Vapid and slow. Slave to emotions.Pathetic sometimes, mmagnificent less often. Ashamed of his own inertia and lack of progress. Some days a pale reflection of who was there and what could have been. Charisma and spark in small doses meant only to tease and to taunt about what might have been. Instead what lingers chronic is the shell, the disappointment.

I don't hate them at all. Actually, I'm jealous of them now, this is true. Trapped as I am... wise too late and old too soon.