It was really something,
you should have been there.
I was forever young, forever strong.
Time did not pursue me, though it somehow pursued me in dreams.
Power to do existed any time, any day.
That was never a thought whatsoever.
Every hill I saw, I dreamed of climbing.
The sun was at high noon, and I took energy directly from it.
It lasted an eternity and had no end.
Now I stand on the opposite edge of the canyon
I can barely see the other side upon which I once stood.
I was strong and invincible;
It seemed even time itself could not smite me.
Then I blinked...
And here I am.
Pain lives where my strength used to be.
The keepers of harsh wisdom used to warn me
I thought, what could they possibly know about me?
I was so ignorant
because they were indeed me.
On the other side, I was limitless.
I only lacked money and focus.
That first thing never matters,
That second one burned my most precious possession: Time.
Peak hour was wonderful and it was wasted.
Does this happen to everyone?
Or was I just a fool?
I never knew I had such power.
I stepped through each day playing trivial games,
Having empty conversations.
Peak hour was beautiful because I had no pain.
Little did I know I was banking it, so that it could grow in interest.
Today, I am paying a young man's debt.
I try to share wisdom with the young ones today.
It always looks like something else.
Dear Leonard, you nailed it when you said:
"and I lift my glass to the awful truth,
that you can't reveal to the years of youth,
except to say it isn't worth a dime."
I speak, but most of my words can only be heard after I am gone.
If only we could save peak hour for later on,
what could we do with that?
Instead, I rambled along my peak hour, spreading poison on the very
fruits that I must survive on later.
Peak hour was beautiful, and it was tragic
And it made me into this.
Is that good or bad?
I will never know.
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