THE MIRROR

sometimes i look in the mirror.
i am seeing a stranger.
i wonder;
"what ever happened to that fair-haired, boy?"
he is way-gone, man.
there is nothing left of him.
just...drooping, hooded eyes.
pock-marked skin.
a bald head.
gray-and-white beard stubble.
a raggedy goatee and mustache.
scars from fights,
and construction mishaps.
the boy is gone.
so is the middle-aged man.
i now see a guy, who looks all of sixty.
this can't be me, but it is.
where is the wise, old sage?
where is my wisdom?
i swore i'd be self-actualized...
a kung-fu master.
a man among men.
a buddha.
alas, i am none of these things.
i do know...that i endure.
i carry on.
i try to do good.
i make progress.
i am me.
i must accept my situation.
yet, i must admit...
i don't look into the mirror,
as much as i did...
when i was that fair-haired boy.
vanity is for the young.
it is foolishness for the old.