To Live Too Old

Old souls are all the talk
human vessels with ancient ways
grounded instead of flying high
seen and done it all
standards set by experience long.
Here I stand without comfort
fractured instead of standing whole
flapping in the world's winds
wondering what's coming next
learning less with every day.

In the past the way was plain
variation was the due reward
for walking the many paths
so much to see and sample once
twice if I desired to try again.
These I tried but did not indulge
wisdom seemed the prudent choice
pace yourself with careful steps
excess came with punishment
this was the voice of the old soul.

Funneled through the checkpoints
stamps acquired as life progressed
stability was the brass ring
there ahead as years passed by
the breadth of the world at my feet.
The circle fell into my hands
reward for the due diligence
the hourglass marked the time
wheel turning round and round
the tarnish found broke my heart.

The contract was incomplete
old souls asked for their due
fine print was there to see
script precise upon the page
in letters that now haunt my life.
Coupon yellowed, now expired
echoes of what could have been
avenues open to far explore
delights bent to appetites
now void though the slip is whole.

The lessons that seemed complete
are dust in the hands slipped away
what was measured by standards firm
agreement's made by gentleman
were fool's errands along the path.
The world still seems plain
except that is all I have
the obvious has moved beyond
contract canceled at soul's request
to live too old before I was done.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161027.

I read an article about “old souls” that presented them as stable and focused incarnations. I think I once thought I was an old soul. I lived my life as one for much of the time. Now I wonder, realizing that life is too short to be old before it is required, if it was ever truly required.