The Condition of Man

I see the loneliness In their eyes The disconnect With their old wife's That make a play Of lost love To fool Other eyes I sit On the end of there beds Steer the conversation To the interests In their spare time Smiling and laughing About their true joys The distant stare Of old memories Childhood places Where paths have crossed Where they have not Reminiscing of another world That slowly melted away Unnoticed Into adulthood They speak of business Failed adventures Moments that Nearly cost a life The scars That act as a calendar To remember Those years gone by Each day Some leave Only to be replaced By more Sad, sick, tired eyes I start again An initial conversation To gain clues On how to proceed I pray For protection Impervious to depression As I Am sick enough Yet I still find strength an time To offer a little relief To these Tired, sick old men I treat everyone as equal Yet have realized That not all Are born equal Something is missing In them I hear my own demons howl And wonder Did they not face enough adversity? Did they stagnate? Spiritually or in learning What has stopped them Acceptance? Of self an life I think of my own insights Into self Of motorcycle maintenance And its great reveals Or is it As Nietzsche described 'A mans sole desire is his own comfort and is incapable Of creating anything beyond oneself in any form or risk it all For the sake of the enhancement of humanity" Is this what stops them? I don't know Thou I try Try hard to understand The condition of man I look around At these old men Graying Fading Gone