A poignant poem, by Subramanian, about aging gracefully, exclusively for Different Truths.
Ease into the evening of life, a time honoured idiom; Grey hairs alone do not uncover the valley of wisdom. As your bones feel the tremors, you inch away from the whirlpool of emotions; Doesn’t the world change faster than the batting of a lid? You are a cloud of the Past, shrinking in memory as time ticks by; Soon the cloud is gone! The new generation, on a tenuous toehold, speaks a language that waltzes over mind; A bridge-wide gap or a mouse trap? You have reached a stellar stage when what happens is only a happening; It may anger or please but is only a passing of breath, no more. Growing old is refining the gild of memory.
Visual by Different Truths