If really wisdom, was the gathering of years
That forms age,
So shall a wise person, be recognized with wrinkles
Occults would go straight,
To where they belong
Then, the rest of us
Would be free
To open counsels
Less of fun, found in occults
We will not take long
Repacking our draws, time and again
Before we could go, where we should go
To off-load our piled sentiments
Clearing adequate space
For the memories, not so rude
Gently move, without scared hearts
Safe against Pressure
Vultures be known for real
Thou, something
Will always demand
What will worry us?
Because when the music changes
The dance does the same thing.
