The Steady Hand

I sometimes wonder where did it all go, the clarity and fire of ten long years ago. When all was a passion, when all seemed unfurled, and nothing seemed better than changing the world. But now the complications I didn't once see, more and more are the drivers inside of me. The passion must fade, as an honest mad learns,.. flame burn to embers, watch the steady hand emerge. In the mirror I once saw a face fresh with life, now staring back at me are lines borne of strife. The dream required the effort, ain't nothing comes cheap. The young me was foolish, and couldn't dig deep. But long hours aren't useless, though often hard to stand, they hammer and forge until you come out a man. What once was untested, now stands on the verge of running life's marathon, watch the steady hand emerge. As I look back on life I just cannot find a way to remember my younger self's mind. The drives that once pushed me, things that I thought, now all seem so foolish, just juvenile rot. But even I know now that you can't tell them a thing Young people are stupid, that's just the way it is. So I wait and I hope that they live beyond the urge to tear it all down, before the steady hands emerge. And I see all around me men in their forties, still running 'round crazy, trying to get lucky. Think they've got to hold on to what's already gone, afraid to be grown up, afraid not to be young. I can't understand why they put up this stink, why they still obsess over what others think. At some point it comes off as truly disturbed, to hide in dread fear of letting the steady hand emerge. Though the thought of aging can fill me with fear, it's still far better than not getting to here. How many have fallen, consumed by the flames of youth burning hotly, and never restrained. How many more flared out and threw up their hands, not seeing that the point of falling is to stand. And nostalgia makes me think back and yearn, but youth tempered me to iron, watch the steady hand emerge.