When young and innocent,
we think that age
is a record in old books,
somewhere on the very last page.
When finally being ten,
and convinced that we know it all
we consider those at twenty,
near the end and ready to fall.
However, when twenty,
dashing, daring, unbending, brave and bold,
we consider those at thirty to be
either over the hill, or most certainly too old.
Nevertheless at thirty,
and seemingly acting without fear,
we assume that forty is age's limit,
for us at a safe distance and nowhere near.
Finally, at a fierce and feisty forty,
we think we are cleared for safe sailing,
and only those at fifty about aging
are whimpering, whining and wailing.
Yet at point fifty, rugged and restless,
and still dancing to each beat of life's band,
we're convinced that sixty
is the line in age's desert sand.
However, those who've safely crossed
this line of alleged demarcation,
know that seventy is for the aged
the final port of embarkation.
Having reached seventy,
in safety, in good health, and in style,
we believe that eighty is the ultimate start of aging,
giving us sporting reprieve, at least for a while.
At eighty, having gained in wisdom,
and now being nearly a sage,
we expect or assume that ninety
is the actual limit of really old age.
However at ninety
we now certainly know,
that old age's presence not until
somewhere around one hundred will show.
Seek and find happiness and contentment
at every point and every place;
Accept gratefully what is given,
"Age" with God's guidance and in good grace.
Leave a legacy of love and peace!
You'll be remembered forever,
known for good and lasting deeds,
but not your age. No, no, never!
Gerhard A. Fűrst,
(73 years young as of July 9)!
July 13, 2009
