Monday, January 5, 2009

An Old Soul

This was a late night attempt at poetry, but it really speaks to how I feel sometimes.

An Old Soul

Some have told me before that I have an

Old Soul.

I have always been confused as to

What that means, but I am beginning now to


I once believed it to be a compliment on some sort of

Wisdom beyond my years.

I was impressed by this and took it as a deep honor.

Yet, now I have encountered in various forms

Those few I would consider to be

Old Souls,

And through these encounters have learned more about myself.

Whether through conversation in smoke filled rooms, or

The wonder of literature,

I feel a connection to these that reaches far beyond the confines of

Space and Time.

This connection assures me that they are in fact

Old Souls,

Yet also hints toward the fact that I too am aged.

I have seen one score and one year, yet I feel much


Many would laugh and think this is the misgiving of a youth who

Doesn’t understand longevity.

My life has been full of more blessings than I could

Ever deserve

And I will not pretend that

It could not have been worse.

Yet the age I feel goes beyond any count of years.

Socrates was undoubtedly an

Old Soul.

Three score and ten years did he live and breathe and think.

And although his sentence was firm, he could have chosen


Yet, I think I could live twice as long as he

And I would not feel any different than I do now.

I feel weary of this world and this existence.

Not sad or depressed of my corporeality,

But tired.

I have long struggled with my destiny and what the


Holds for me.

However, I now feel like my future is unclear because I am

Looking backwards instead of forwards.

Not longingly or regretfully,

But like one remembers places once visited or roads once traveled.

I don’t know, yet I suspect, that this is how Socrates felt when

He chose the hemlock.

What happens when an

Old Soul

Becomes weary of travelling the same roads?

When you feel your time wandering is drawing to a close regardless of

Any measure of success or failure.

Marcus Aurelius wrote that time is a river whose flow is ever


Yet, what happens when your youthful body becomes


With the feeling that you have ridden the length of the river

Over and over again?

These are not the desperate or suicidal ponderings of the depressed,

But the earnest queries of one who doubts that even the solace of

Death itself

Can bring any rest for a weary

Old Soul.


Such a simple yet so often misunderstood word.

Many have written of it and more desire it,

But few can truly give it


I will not make such an attempt but will only say that

While there may never be any


For being more weary of the world than one’s age allows,


Is the only thing that makes the age of your soul

Worth enduring.

No matter how Love crosses your path,

Don’t let it pass you by

And never let it go.

Yet, at the same time,

Remember that crucifixion is the

Ultimate price of Love.

There is not much more to say that can be said.

Maybe the true sign of being an

Old Soul

Is when you feel like there is so much you need to

Share with the world

But you can’t.

Not out of an arrogant desire to prove your wisdom

But out of some desire to validate your journey as meaningful.

Yet, you can’t.

Not merely because no words are enough to express true meaning,

But that something deeper within holds you back.

Keeps you from speaking from the only


You cannot escape.

The fear of ruining


Yours cannot be regained although you know in your


That you would not want it back though its price was

More than you ever agreed to.

Yet, though your very being begs you to release

Your innermost feelings and emotions to

Save the world from itself,

You cannot even force the words out.

The world has the capability to save itself.

But it has to make that choice itself.

An Old Soul.

I still am not convinced I know

What that means.

I am more persuaded that

I may never know.

Some say I have one.

I am beginning to believe them.

- The Apprentice Philosopher