that sprouts among the brown.
Each one a mark of time,
a mark of experience,
and, I hope,
a mark of wisdom.
I recall the days of
youth and longing.
Longing for the days
when all my hair
would be gray and white,
the struggles past,
having reached some goal,
having attained
some milestone of happiness,
of satisfaction with life,
some feeling of
“I have arrived.”
“Then,” I thought,
“Then, I will be happy.”
I was so ready
to say goodbye to my youth.
In it I saw only powerlessness,
lack of experience,
lack of wisdom.
But now I bless
the dark hairs as well.
They are all marks
of where I am
on this journey.
I see no future goal.
