I have walked the path of the ancient ones.

Each step made me stronger. Wiser. Fearless.

I don’t suffer the antics of fools.

Nor do I tolerate the pretense of substance.

Heavy is the granite of my principals.

Cracked by forces meant to weaken me.

Wedges are afforded to few family and friends.

Flexible to blood and love.

Yet firm in my resolve to stay the course.

The ancient ones pass through me.

Or more likely I pass through them.

Each passage changing the texture of my wisdom.

Giving me rearview to the carnage of my choices.

Weighing heavy the hearts I have failed.

Grieving those moments when I abandoned purpose.

My back to the sun on my shoulders.

Lighting the path for others behind me.

Forcing me to walk in my own shadow.

The ancient ones whisper.

You can hear them if you listen to each falling leaf.

Each hummingbird seeking pollen deep in a bonnet.

The sway of wild flowers in the evening breeze.

Or the tears shed near a tombstone read.

Too often I did not listen.

Too late I learned the greatest lessons.

A man’s true value isn’t in his future endeavors.

It’s in what he left behind.