Getting Old

[eye_of_tiger]

The following poem appears on the internet in several different versions, but they are all written by the same author.

I prefer this one, and now have it framed on my bedroom wall.

It reminds me every day that although my physical body will eventually stop working and turn back to dust, my soul continues to exist in eternity.

That is I am an eternal spiritual being having a temporary human experience, in this physical world and universe.

Just as we should never judge a book's contents by its cover, or a news story by its headline, we should also never judge the soul within and his or her pathway through life, by the age of our own or for that matter anyone else's body.

GETTING OLD

You tell me I am getting old, I tell you that's not so.
The "house" I live in is worn out. And that of course I know.
It's been in use a long long while. It's weathered many a gale:
I'm really not surprised you think. It's getting somewhat frail.
The color's changing on the roof. The window's getting dim.
The wall's a bit transparent. And looking rather thin.
The foundation's not so steady. As once it used to be;
My 'house' is getting shaky. But my "house" - it isn't me.
My few short years can't make me old. I feel I'm in my youth:
Eternity lies just ahead. A life of joy and truth.
You only see the outside. Which is all that most folks see.
You tell me that I am getting old? You've mixed my "house" with me!

By Dora Johnson