Becoming Normal

 

There is no growing mad
When growing old, all we get
Is more sane and tranquil
I remember clearly though

The insane letters in my mind
How intense feelings
Once were, like the end of reason’s
Fever, or the revolution

Of identity in a lovely instant
I remember the radical monuments
Of youth, carefully concealed
Against a hostile world

My friends warn me
I have sung a song of
Too much patience
I will tell her of my love more carefully

And I do not gladly wait the years
But my cheeks gladly waited
For the woman I would marry
The years have turned to gold

That honors the time of passing
With no clear destination
The pockets of sanity are not deep
Not proud, not time-charred just normal.