Conversations with the Sage

This is an age and an era of change,
The only constant.
Days so strange it blows my mind-
The world and ways it works
Still things always seem the same.
Mental anguish creeps
Starts in my soul and climbs up my spine.
“Lay low,” said the Wiseman,
“For those who pace themselves
Will be the ones who win this race
Through bright trees and ancient hills,
Fields and wherever life may choose to lead.”
I pondered the potential of the sage’s good advice
And had I done as he suggested
I’d have avoided many vices.
“It’s times like these that make me wish
I were part of the Great Cosmic Debris,”
I thought aloud,
As helixes and satellites orbited my head.
Just then a mighty dust cloud rose
Before my eyes, colors dripping
Dropping from the sky
As he and I, the sage I mean,
Continued to discuss possibilities and inclinations-
Variations of the ways to view the world
And what awaits us in the next.
“Love love,” he said,
Rubbing the sruff upon his chin,
“For those that love will be the ones that
Love the love you have to give.”
How many ways have we
To emulate the train of thought
That brought about the changes
That will resonate through history?