Muddle Through Poem by David Welch

The world was always broken,
the madness is the truth,
but here amidst the broken,
we somehow muddle through.

At a young age
we think we can change the game,
march in the streets
and fight hard.
At that young age,
we think heaven can be made,
don't get that far.

Somewhat older,
we think the world will smolder,
it won't survive
what we are.
Somewhat older,
when all are growing colder,
we bear the scars.

The world was always broken,
the madness is the truth,
but here amidst the broken,
we somehow muddle through.

Come middle years,
we get hardened to the fears,
seen it before
long ago.
Come middle years,
we're too jaded for the tears,
so rarely flow.

Then elder days,
when there is so much to say,
a whole lifetime
makes it so.
The young ones bray,
won't give you the time of day,
hear what you know…

The world was always broken,
the madness is the truth,
but here amidst the broken,
we somehow muddle through.