Human Eye in Dark Nights
Age never mattered, nor will it ever matter.
I looked at the night through my human eye,
And wondered why the stars never ask who is high.
A little child counted them, one by one,
An old man watched them, remembering the sun.
Both had different stories hidden inside,
Different roads travelled, different places to hide.
Yet both looked up at the very same sky,
Neither too young, nor too old to wonder why.
A clock kept ticking on a wall nearby,
Never asking the hands why they move or fly.
It counted the minutes, the hours, the years,
But never counted courage, laughter or tears.
And isn't that strange about the way we grow?
We count how much time has passed, but not what we know.
We ask a child's age before hearing their thought,
And measure an elder by the battles they've fought.
I've seen a young mind question the deepest sea,
And an old soul wonder what tomorrow might be.
I've seen wisdom hiding in a child's mistake,
And dreams in an old heart that still wish to awake.
A flower doesn't bloom according to a birthday,
A river doesn't grow old along its way.
The morning doesn't wait for permission to shine,
And the stars don't follow a numerical line.
Then why do we build these invisible walls?
Why do we decide who is ready to stand tall?
Why must a dream wait for a certain age?
Before it is allowed to step onto life's stage?
Perhaps we have forgotten something small:
A seed is a forest, though it looks nothing at all.
A book isn't wise by the years it has stayed,
But by the thoughts that its pages have made.
A teenager can understand a silence untold,
An elder can still have a heart full of gold.
A child can teach what a teacher may miss,
And a lifetime can still be searching for bliss.
I watched a streetlight flicker in the rain,
It had stood there through sunshine and pain.
No one asked how long it had been awake,
They simply appreciated the light it could make.
And perhaps that is how human lives should be,
Not judged by the years, but by what we can see.
Not by the number of candles we blow,
But by the warmth and kindness we let others know.
Tonight, I don't wish to become older or young,
I wish to keep the questions my childhood sung.
To carry the curiosity of a little one's eyes,
And the patience of someone who watched many skies.
For age is a number written somewhere in time,
Not the depth of a thought, nor the worth of a mind.
You may be sixteen and understand the unknown,
Or eighty and still have new gardens to grow.
So I looked at the night once again,
At the little stars scattered across its terrain.
They didn't ask which one had shone the longest,
They simply made the darkness a little less endless.
And I finally understood what the night had to say:
Life isn't about how long you've been here,
But how much of life you've allowed yourself to see.
Age never mattered, nor will it ever matter.
For the human eye sees beyond the calendar,
And the heart, regardless of the years it carries,
Will always have another universe to discover.
