Generic

Nettles and Thistles 
Thorns cling and say wait. 
I scoff at the scratches, 
headlong in my quest, 
younger in mind than 
body. 
Forever seeking the prize, 
heedless that the moment 
passes forever, 
offering no reprise in 
honor. 
Progeny with platitudes 
and no knowledge, 
now hover close, waiting, 
knowing but not seeing 
collapse. 
Time slows, almost 
stopping the thoughts 
struggling to leap 
over the 
carapace. 
Questions creep in, 
but curiosity fails, 
as inert life finds 
comfort in slow 
existence.