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The Getting Of Wisdom Chris E Ivins
Tales are often told to youngsters by the old,
sitting in rocking chairs, touting their verbal wares.
The children gaze with eyes, big and round like Grandma's pies.
They love these stories of old as they listen to them unfold!
Some time between the child, and the getting of wit and wile,
that wide-eyed innocent wonder is replaced by cynical dunder.
There is no time to care, or be sitting by Grandpa's chair.
Those childhood tales of old, now no longer need to be told.
The young ones go to Uni, to gain some "real maturity".
They're puffed with pride and glee, at each hard-earned PhD.
Sitting in leather chairs, spouting academic wares.
Their joy in love and miracles, swallowed up in waxing lyrical.
Those forgotten family ties, are hidden amongst the lies,
that they've ended up believing, with a lifetime spent achieving.
They can't see the greater cost, of their youth becoming lost,
that they've foregone humility, and replaced it with futility.
Until the time arrives, when they look upon their lives.
When reality it does bite, in the lonely dead of night.
When all of their achievements don't help to ease bereavement.
When spending lonely holidays reminds them of those old ways.
Now one sits in an old wheelchair, with no-one to care, there's no-one there.
How did his life amount to this? Was there a clue he managed to miss?
The staff at the Home don't understand, what it was like to be a smart man.
All they can see each and every day,
is a lonely old bugger just wasting away.
So this smart man has nothing left, he'll die forgotten, alone and bereft.
He thought he was right, but he forgot, with all of the knowledge that he begot,
to honour and love his own inner child, to be enlivened, to be beguiled!
Just like the youngsters who once were told,
those forgotten stories by the old.
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