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Poem

In the twilight of thoughts, I wander,
A stream of consciousness, an open river,
Reflecting on the echoes of years, scattered and pondered,
In the labyrinth of time, where shadows linger.
We are always asked to understand,
To step into the shoes of others, their fate,
No matter how outdated, foolish, or grand,
To view their errors, their wasted life, with empathy.
With kindness, we look upon the elderly,
Their lives like manuscripts, faded by time,
But age is the sum of untold stories,
Of actions and choices that fill each page.
They have aged poorly, some might say,
Because they lived unfocused, blind,
Refusing to see, day after day,
Not their fault? Or perhaps mine?
I am asked to hide my truth, my viewpoint,
To shield them from their own despair,
To dance around fears, old and new,
In a world where honesty is rare.
Age is no crime, this we know,
But the shame of deliberately wasted lives,
Among so many, where hope does not grow,
Is a burden, a sorrow we silently bear.
In the mirror of time, I see their face,
A reflection of dreams, now cold and distant,
A life lived in shadows, devoid of grace,
A story of courage, never told.
Yet, in this twilight, a spark remains,
A glimmer of hope, in the embers of night,
That even in lives marked by stains,
There lies a chance, a ray of light.
For we all must face, the truth within,
The paths we’ve chosen, the roads we've walked,
In the end, it’s never too late to begin,
To seek, to find, the dreams we've stalked.
So, as I wander in this stream of thought,
I find solace in the lessons learned,
That every life, no matter how caught,
In shadows, can still be turned.

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