Passing the torch

He smelled of the ocean air,
Of twisted steel to heat laid bare,
Of ancient moss crept to and fro,
And of enveloping ivy over solid stone,
It was as if he had seen the birth of creation,
Cradled the first man, advised the first nation,
His voice but a whisper,
But if you listened 'twas clear,
The wisdom laid there,
Was more than any man could bear,
"It's made me quite mad in my lingering age,
Watching the fate of man deteriorate each day,
They're sick and they're twisted,
And they no longer listen,
When advised that they change their ways,
So I've given up,
My patience is out,
I lay this burden on you,
But I highly doubt,
Anything will change,
My boy,
Their fate rests with you".


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