LXVIII: Virtuous Age

They say to live forever is a plague,

that pride will rule your will and greed will wax,

your goodness dim, compassion growing vague,

for years and years corrupt by time’s cruel tax.

A friend had told me, centuries ago:

I’d think of arguments of days gone by,

and years would prove to teach my mem’ry woe

when cutting words to speak of then wer’n’t nigh.

But after all these years, I do recall

the arguments of long a tenured day,

but no cruel feeling claims me as its thrall,

I merely wish there’d been more peace our way.

More time cannot corrupt, save for the vile,

for goodness grows with every age and mile.