In the tapestry of time, my age is but a thread,
Woven into patterns, where my thoughts and dreams are spread.
Not the count of years, nor the lines upon my skin,
But the age of my ideas, where youth and wisdom begin.

For thoughts can be as ancient as the oldest star in night,
Or fresh as morning dew under the newborn light.
They dance between the epochs, in whispers and in roars,
Journeying through the ages, opening countless doors.

In my mind, I've walked with Plato, under Athens' sunlit skies,
And pondered with the poets, where the heart of passion lies.
I've dreamed of future worlds, where peace and love prevail,
And innovation's sails are set, with hope as the wind to sail.

It's not the years that weigh me down, or the pace at which they go,
But the freshness of my thoughts, that keeps my spirit aglow.
For as long as curiosity's fire burns bright and clear,
I am ageless, boundless, far beyond a mere year.

So let the calendar mark time, in its relentless, steady trot,
I measure life by the vibrance of the thoughts that I have got.
For it's not how old I am, in the years that I've accrued,
But the age of my thoughts, in their multitude.

March 8, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop