Age Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Age



How ugly the beauty of life is: There is a plant with short roots in the muddy soil, it has petals, the stem and the poisonous leaves. No man ever gets to eat a flower. So where is the wonder of working a flower garden?

But to remain in the dark and to meditate only about his soul; to stay in dark places and search in it for his mental peace; to wake up and reason about his remote origins; to open his eyes; to stop dreaming and to see reality for what it is - to not choose to chase after a dream; to know that a dream can not be really lived; to get a total scope of elucidation and to simply develop into maturity, this is surely how a man gets to come of age.

I can not be unsatisfied by a want; to remain awake through the night and be giddious drowsy by day; to seek to acquire a lot more than the labor that I put forth; to attach myself to the attention that comes with the illusion of material possession, instead - I want only what I need for the good of a good life.

A good life is getting the best deserving for a soul - And who knows what it is excerpt for the purity of the spirit inside a nourishing soul? When I was a boy and was deluded by the words of the adults, I lost a lot of human and living value in understanding, as I was constantly advised to seek after the counsel of men who had an unwavering will to chase after a life of dreams. Of my own seeking, I have come up with what I've noted as being wisdom [ that ], to only want what you need is how a man gets to come of age.

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