Let me live to be hundred and five,
A child once again and all so naïve,
Innocent dispassion
For a destination,
In a journey— nowhere to arrive!
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It is the burden of goal post, call it aim or ambition that takes one away from now and here of the moment. Living with no burden, it seems, makes child a child.
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Musings | 02.05.13 |
My apologies for not responding to your excellent feedback. Thanks so much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Journey of life is very mysterious. In old age like at 105 a man behaves like a child. There is innocence. This journey's destination no one easily identifies. An amazing Limerick is shared that gives fun...10
Thanks dear KM and sorry, I had not noticed this before.