I once met an old man
He asked me, "How are you, young man?"
I gave the common response of, "Oh, I'm fine. How are you?"
He looked at me for a moment and said, "I doubt that."
My anger came to the surface quickly
Naked in the admission of guilt
"What the hell's that spose to mean!?"
He looks at me for another moment and says something I'll never forget
He says, " I'm old and I've seen a lot of men come and go...
I've never seen one that looked like you and was happy on the inside...
Inside, you're like water beating yourself against rock...
Never content to be still."
And rage flared inside me again because he was right
Because he'd seen inside me so easily
I wanted to kiss one cheek and strike the other
I wanted to argue but couldn't
and my frustration showed
He simply waved his hand as if to say,
"Ah, doesn't matter ... just a passing thought."
And in that moment
I saw the young man that he once was
I saw the fire of his youth still burning behind wisdom
I saw the women that had loved him but were never loved back
I saw the parts of himself that he let shatter
and be swept away
Most of all, I saw myself
An old man sitting in his chair
And I loved and hated him for it
Sometimes I wonder what his name was ...
But it's just a passing thought