O, if I were a younger man
why, I’d gallop with the breeze
plant acres of flowers and trees
I’d devote myself to curing medical disease
even ‘incurable’ allergies
I’d visit the sick, comfort the bereaved
support the orphan, the widow, the frozen I’d unfreeze
Every moment of life I’d seize
milk it for everything I could squeeze ~
And I’d campaign 24/7 against Zoran Mamdani
and every delusional western pol with the socialist disease
Rewinding the time of life, back to those golden days,
Would be like a dream come true, to relieve my phase.
Fixing my broken life, for sure!
Doing everything right, I’ll definitely ensure.
I’ll join every piece of heart I shattered,
While creating new memories, I could never gather.
I’ll try to change every word I said, I didn’t mean!
To change, the lens of sadness into love for me, that earlier was never seen.
Reminiscing those days cheer my heart,
Every moment I lived, I thought would never keep us apart.
Until the day I cried…
For losing those memories, allowing them to get dried.
Here I am thinking of those days…
As the night passes, my every hope fades.
We are the ocean and the drop of rain,
The mountain’s shadow and the sunlit plain.
Divided by the stories that we tell,
Yet bound by every breath and rhythmic swell.
One breath of stardust, spun in a different guise,
Looking outward through a million eyes.
The ancient rivers and the smallest stone,
Are the seeds of every garden we have known.
Beneath the varied shapes of joy and grief,
The fading winter and the blooming leaf,
There is a single, undivided whole,
A quiet rhythm beating in the soul.
For when we drop the boundaries of the mind,
We find the endless grace that leaves no one behind.
In every stranger, a familiar face,
Together held in time’s embracing space.
You’re hurting, lad.
Not the kind of hurt you can point at,
but the kind that sits in your chest
like a locked room.
You’ll carry nights
where you can’t breathe right,
mornings where you wake up tired
of waking up.
You’ll think the pain means you’re broken.
It doesn’t.
It means you’re still here.
And here’s the part
you’d never believe:
that same pain —
the one that made you hide,
the one that made you quiet,
the one that made you feel
like you were built wrong —
will become the reason
other people keep going.
Your honesty will steady them.
Your cracks will guide them.
Your survival will give them language
for their own storms.
People will read your words
and feel their own pulse again.
They’ll whisper,
“If he can make it through that,
maybe I can too.”
The boy who thought he was nothing
becomes the man
who gives others hope
because he never lied
about the pain it cost him.
Keep walking.
Every step you take
is a light someone else
is following.
When I was younger, I wished to be in a movie.
I wanted to be a star.
When I was younger, I wished to have a driver's license.
I wanted a car.
When I was younger, I wished to be a magician.
I wanted to do tricks.
When I was younger, I wished to work at an ice cream shop.
I wanted to make stack of licks.
When I was younger, I wished to draw.
I wanted to be an artist.
When I was younger, I wished to dance,
I wanted to be a dancer.
When I was younger, I wish to sing.
I wanted to be a singer.
You will be okay
Don't listen to the girls who call you ugly
You aren't ugly, you are perfect
Mami and papa want to know what's going on with you
They don't want you to hide it because you are scared to hurt them
Don't do what that teacher tells you
She isn't trying to keep you safe
Don't give up on your music studies
Soon they will be taking you to New York City to compete
Don't ever stop writing how you feel
It's your right to express yourself
It's okay to love somebody
Even if they aren't the best for you
But most importantly, my love,
Don't be scared
To ask for help
Sooner than when I did
In an effort to become something you aren’t,
You lose track of who you were.
I often think about who I was,
And how I felt then,
Here’s what I would say to my younger self:
I would tell him the all mistakes I’ve made,
Yet he’s amazed at how much I’ve learned
I would tell him how many times I’ve lost,
Yet he would only hear about how much I’ve won
I would tell him about the bad I’ve done,
Yet he can only see the good in me,
I would tell him about the times I almost gave up,
Yet he stares in awe that I’m here
I would tell him about all the mountains I’ve had to climb,
Yet he never thought I would be up so high
I would tell him about all of the burdens I carry,
Yet he notices how strong I am
I would tell him about the people I’ve lost,
And he gets sad for a bit,
Yet asks more about the people I’ve gained
I would tell him about all the time I’ve felt like I’ve wasted,
Yet he never thought I could be so busy
I would tell him all the times I’ve felt useless,
Yet he points out when I’ve helped people
When life gets to you, you ask yourself,
“What would my younger self say?”
Because chances are,
They’re proud of you.
I saw you there,
Standing in the doorway,
That little face I used to wear.
You looked at me,
With wide eyes full of expectation,
Like you still believed in what was true, and real, and good and
Everything was possible,
And everyone was kind.
I tried to wave,
To tell you that I was doing okay,
But you didn’t wave back.
Instead, you stood frozen,
Watching me with a quiet sadness,
Like you knew something I didn’t.
You wanted to say something,
Didn't you?
I'm not so sure now,
because
You just turned away
And started walking down the path
I had already left behind.
And I was left standing in the doorway,
Wondering when I stopped being the person you dreamed I would be.
Instead of finding someone to grow old with…
may we all break the mold…
and find someone to grow younger with
as together….we grow old.
A weapon in hand and a power to speak.
Not just being light enough to merely freak.
To outrage some of your own thoughts and prayers.
To not let someone kill your desires.
To help only the ones you respect.
To be at Liberty under no contact.
Dear younger you may be you realised the fact.
Growing up like a warrior was to act.
Little feet would turn courageous.
My little princess Almighty will throw some plight but shield from contagious.
Go live but don't forget.
Life is meant with a purpose not finished yet.
I am not getting any younger
Yes I already lived my
Younger days
A long time ago
Now I am already
An elderly man
I live a very simple life
That my Father gave to me
Many years ago
The simple life suits me fine
The younger me would try to be
A person you might like to see.
When plans were made, I would agree
To travel with the flow.
I’d care about what people thought
And follow rules I had been taught
And make sure everything I bought
Was worth that kind of dough.
I’d worry about how I looked
And fuss with everything I cooked
And obligations got me hooked
When I could not say no.
That younger self does not exist
And though some remnants do persist,
To meet me now, you will have missed
That me from long ago.
Wind argues with leaves—
I walk past the noise of men,
Listening to rain.
Older than my memories,
Younger than the creation of the lands.
You used to hold her in my memories,
Every summer's been colder,
No one really understands.
Mother I Sober,
Father’s treacheries reaching out with colder hands.
A freezing touch grows from my shoulder,
The suppression needs control,
No one really understands.
Maybe one day when I’m older,
I’ll know your touch as welcome hands.
Maybe one day,
When you’re older,
We’ll laugh together,
Again.
/
I used to love you,
Maybe you were the same.
I wanted to write a haiku,
But two lines couldn’t conceal my pain.
As the hands strike hours of midnight,
A new self you invent in all your might,
A year older I am expected to act therefore,
But I still remain all the years l've lived before.
If you look close enough all the way through,
You shall find a five year old just as much as a twenty two.
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