An old friend once passed on this poem… At that stage I was 17 and ridiculously naive with the world at my feet (now I’m just naive). But the extra years have given me a better understanding that not everything falls into our laps and that we do need to make that effort to get to where we want, to take the risks and open our eyes to the paths laid out in front of us.
I’d like to thank this friend for being such a big part in the start of the path I chose (kinks and everything 😉
They do me wrong who say I come no more
When once I knock and fail to find you in;
For every day I stand outside your door,
And bid you wake, and rise and fights and win.
Wail not for the precious chances passed away;
Weep not for golden ages on the wane;
Each night I burn the records of day;
At sunrise every soul is born again.
Laugh like a boy at splendours that have sped,
To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb;
My judgements seal the dead past with its dead,
But never bind a moment yet to come.
Though deep in mire wring not your hands and weep,
I lend my arm to all who say , “I can!”
No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep
But yet might rise and be again a man!
Dost thou behold thy lost youth all agast?
Dost reel from righteous retribution’s blow?
The turn from blotted archives of the past
And find the future’s pages white as snow.
Art thou a morner? Rouse thee from thy spell;
Art thou a sinner? Sin may be forgiven;
Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell,
Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.
Walter Malone (1866-1915)