Maybe ideas of wanting are tied to phases of life.
Of youth to striving.
Of middle age to pondering.
Old age to surrendering.
Why wouldn’t it be otherwise?
But oh to surrender in youth.
And to strive for self murder in old age.
Oh to ponder every day with thoughts of hell on earth.
The things that can’t be taught.
When young, you must lust after gathering.
When old, you must carve away at your own carcass.
Eliminating that which once seemed so precious to the young ego.
The bold achiever of younger days capitulating to the next wave of realities
that delete files of delusion indiscriminately.
End this man now and give me freedom to live young again.
Young again with absolutely no ambition.