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Sages Few And Far Between

Back in my prime years I recall my fastest pace not fast
But I was that much fitter then though that too did not last
My stomach sticking out a bit my hair is silver gray
And time is catching up on me I've known a better day.

An old bloke I know who drinks at the local pub won't bow to father time
Although he must be fifty years beyond his glorious prime
He boasts of the beauties he deflowered but he lives on his own today
And perhaps many of the loves of his life with the departed lay.

The title of the wise old sage to him could not apply
He only lives to boast about his past and his me, myself and I
And his stories of his love affairs by him too often told
Some people they do not grow wise they only do grow old.

The billionaire is the one we believe who has got everything
But he is not happy of late since his profit margins dropped this Spring
His interest in life is making lots of money he must live in spiritual poverty
There must be more to life than that or so 'twould seem to me.

That I am a cynic and have always been I never could deny
I do not believe as many do in this great God in the sky
But one person's truth it would seem is another person's lie
I believe we only live awhile and we then grow old and die.

From the place that I once called home I have travelled many a mile
Still I feel confused in my thinking and I've been that way for some while
And I too have grown older but I've not grown more wise
And sages few and far between I've come to realize.

by Francis Duggan

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