Upon the path that leads to age,
we feel the wrath and deeds of rage.
Unstable cracks within the pavement ,
quaking impacts of depravement.
A binding lath of weeds and sage,
upon the path that leads to age,
with tendrils reaching from the cracks
and trials beseeching parallax.
All deceive, penned in our mind
and then we leave our youth behind.
Upon the path that leads to age,
the aftermath precedes the page.
We have no choice but to grow old.
no spoken voice can thus unfold;
a wrath of trembles seed this cage,
upon the path that leads to age.















33 old applause
