An Age Of Rage Scripted His Page

What do I
Need to be?
How can my life evoke change?
How do the words
I've studied so profusely

Appear

When written upon the page

Maybe if I
Was to die
They would indeed gain more substance
An abundance of writings so wrongfully right

How do I
Work to
Save a life?

Is it so rightfully wrong
My verse that went on missed
That In that very dying wish
Turned unbeknown to blessed

In death our lives hold more meaning
In birth our innocence pure
In reaching the end of your legacy
We can all relate that little bit more

But

The transition is mirrored
In life's cycle we are prone to change
The reliance is the same at birth as it is when reaching a very old age

Our minds may change a little
But underneath the fragile exterior still remains
A wordsmith
A poet
A lyricist

Whose pure purpose in life
Is laid down beautifully blessed

All throughout
His days of age to mind to page to the very last living breath.
..........................................

This poem had some influence
from a post I viewed on Facebook a while back. It was about an elderly man and his last dying poem.
I'm pretty sure someone on Opussia did post it! Check it out

Daniel HIng 17.01.13