contemplativePerson Out of Time
I'm a person out of time,
living in a world not my own.
People surround this solitary,
different in ways to many to count.
My companions on this path
are early in their youthful lives.
Beginning where I long ago trod,
embracing the fruit now long passed.
My years have passed with consequence
with experiences scarring deep within.
The surface is the easy mask
displayed for the world to digest.
To know too much is my soul's bane,
experience taking differences to shame.
We are more alike in my eyes you see
when the petty games are made to play.
The cliques cannot resist my influence,
I stand outside their tribal rules.
The key that fits no lock may pass many by,
as skeleton as the past in my closet.
This allows for intrusion within,
yet this is less than it would seem.
Full membership is now denied
when scrutiny is at last defined.
No path forward for inclinations,
even if romance was the option possible.
Similarities sparkle in the lives shared,
void by the gulfs of age disparate.
Connections are made on another plane,
this one separate from tender touch.
It is best for all involved,
so says the wisdom of generation's mind.
My time will pass before the rest,
my elders already fade from sight.
In time this will be my fate,
leaving me only in other's memories.
I'm a person out of time,
living in a world not my own.
For this time I fully embrace
those ways we may share this place.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160314.
