The Age of Rocks

Lest you forget
To die and to love are one in the same
Grow old, become that to which you will become
Drink, ponder over nostalgic beverages
Staring long eyed into a sleepy willow
Which whispers to you a past
Look inward,
Hitherto all of your insolence is restrained,
Ergo you are no adolescent, no man of ego,
You are no longer novice,
Ergo dulche et decorum est pour amor morti
Breathe you fool
To grow old is not to grow short of breath
It’s to grow long of breath
A slow sigh passing through unrestrained lips
Which from which you may make for yourself
A reputation as an ass
Or a title from a royal
For son
You with you bear one advantage
As is common among gods
You my seed are uncommon
Unparticular
And mysterious
Withdrawn yet intimate
But son do remember
That when you accompany women
They smell your blood on the water
And feast upon your mortal soul
Women are evil, scandalous
Precocious in the design of destruction
Loquacious with Janusian words
Never trust your secrets
To lips willing to receive them
For they shall duly be revealed
And your own inanity to blame
Be warned for treason and indignity
Are more rampant
Then the evils which overshadow this domain
For in time you will spew
Blood from your guts
And bile from your organs
But do not forget
You will never live twice