As life has accumulated history of merged years, decades and now straddles a brink almost half a century old, a wonderful development unfolds before me...even as I watch, the world grows younger, in days, weeks, months and years. As I watch, I am surrounded by a growing populace of the immortally young, effervescent, energetic, of booming laughter, bouncy step, a glow that belongs to gods...young men and women surround me everywhere and fill me with hope that this shall always remain, or hope - as long as they remain, or at least a germ of hope that this renewal carries a hope of future redemption, salvation from ills that we have bequeathed them...for they care not for blames, complex analysis, imposition of past, but will carry life forward on the buoyancy of their laughter, the surge of their chorused songs, the sparkle of their many billion eyes.
And what am I? as this world grows younger? I am as an ancient tree, in an ancient forest, watchful, indulgent to the seasonal surges of renewal bursting around me in young neons and luminescent greens, to the splendour of new and the pull of the young - attracting the bees, butterflies, birds into a wild chorus of overspilling life... I am that which watches through silent spaces- neither young or old - just eternal.
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