In my youth,
I found wisdom of the sages.
Simple, yet profound.
Strong, yet sincere.
They looked upon me
Glazed eyes piercing my skin
Callused hands prodding my flesh
Studying my soul and physique.
It was me they settled for,
These wise men who lived close by.
I traveled the roads between our houses
so they could impart proverbs and lessons
speak of life and love.
I was Learning,
Learning of myself, every moment
Yet when my teaching was done,
I was none the wiser.
I knew the lessons and tales.
I knew what was supposed to be.
But without a life of experience,
their meaning was lost.
But I now knew myself,
which is all anyone can ask for
when they find themselves wishing
they were a little bit wiser.

Published by: cynicalwordsmith

I am, by no means, a professional writer. I have no dreams of becoming such. I just enjoy writing in my very sparse free time, both poetry and short stories. If you enjoy any of my works in particular, feel free to tell me. I always enjoy the feedback.

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