Ride ten thousand days and nights til age snow white hairs on thee...

(1 , 2)

Birthday, silver anniversary

A quarter of a century old and I feel half that, maybe.
It's hard to judge what age I "really" am,
this kaleidoscope of mindsets and feelings,
and I know we are all every age we've ever been,
but I am an age I've never been and will not be
for years. Twenty-five, twenty, sixteen, twelve;
some and yet none of them fit. I'm fit for adolescence
now, not hardly when I was in it. Extended childhood,
extended adolescence, and then what? I won't know.
I never do. Always reaching on ahead, stretching to
fill the gap. I succeed and also don't. Keep trying
anyway; they will be fooled because they want to be.

So I'm 24 now...

How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth,
    Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
    My hasting days fly on with full career,
    But my late spring no bud or blossom sheweth.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
    That I to manhood am arrived so near,
    And inward ripeness doth much less appear
    That some more timely happy spirits indueth.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
    It shall be still in strictest measure even
    To that same lot however mean or high,
Toward which time leads me and the will of heaven.
    All is, if I have grace to use it so,
    As ever in my great taskmaster's eye.
~John Milton, Sonnet VII


Milton apparently also looked way younger than his age. I feel this poem is appropriate for today. It doesn't matter what age I am or what age I look like, I'm just going to keep doing what I gotta do.