Shrouds of contemplation have come to warn <br />Of impending decision once again. <br />Twenty six summers are almost gone. <br />Yesterday it was only ten. <br />Tomorrow it will be fifty, and long <br />Days grow shorter as shear panic descends <br />Upon my small world of right and wrong, <br />Desolation, my destined friend, <br />Or so it seems unless changes are made. <br />Dreams remain dreams if they are not pursued. <br />Reality becomes a song played <br />So many times that it is stripped nude <br />Of the intended meaning, and it fades <br />Into the oblivion of a crude <br />Forgottenness 'ever there, but laid <br />To rest by past and future's feud. <br />Thoughts of wasted time grow old in my mind. <br />Twenty six summers near gone and the list <br />Of profitable ventures is signed <br />By the fingers of "Chances Missed". <br />The need to conceive a goal more aligned <br />With the grand purpose of success has kissed <br />My desires once more and has resigned <br />Nothing but frustration's clinched fist. <br />Restoration of fancies and whims <br />Of younger years is taking place inside <br />A mind gazing through the stagnant stems <br />Of thoughts restless to end this ride; <br />Restless to burst and overflow the brims <br />Of slumber into the realms of swelled pride; <br />Into the world of fine satin trims <br />And power a long time denied. <br />Ideas of others who fought and fell <br />And living dreams of those who will withstand <br />The multitude of desires have dwelled <br />In many hopes of hungry hands. <br />They exist in motives of mine as well, <br />But elude obligation's harsh demands. <br />Days grow short, as only time will tell <br />Of riches or of untried plans.<br /><br />Brett Randall Towery<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twenty-five-and-nothing/
