Perhaps impatience is a product of youth, running rapid, not yet skilled in age, not
quite used to the pace at which life evolves.
These days I find myself ruled by emotions of distress, and so I write this poem to you
knowing that we grow wiser with age, and stronger with time, I’m hoping I can borrow
these from you. I ask, show me the wisdom I use to bring all my desires to fruition, give
me the strength that carries me through my tumultuous trials, and maybe you can teach
me to have my vision more clear, my speech more audible, and my actions greater
defined, refined with intention.
At the moment I’m still far too reckless, perhaps I shall always be reckless, and that is
simply who I am. At the moment I haven’t quite learned the skill of appreciating the moment, perhaps beauty is forever fated to slip through my fingers, and I shall always be glancing over my shoulder at things that would’ve been, could’ve been.
We both know that I have a long journey ahead of me, so I ask, walk it with me cheering me on when I lose faith in myself, guiding me where I go astray, and continue to be my beacon of light especially when the days grow dark. If you can believe in me, as much as I believe in you, I know that we shall be alright, and we shall be able to be, do, and have all that our heart desires and our mind conceives.
Sincerely young, and foolish, you.