The world was growing old
but we were growing young.
Holding hands with grew up together
while the world lost its patience
with our ways.
On forts built on the fields of our minds
we stood alone together
as the world went mad.
We took our swords and declared
with valiant bravado
For it was worth the fight!
Truth was drowning in a faceless crowd
chatting the end of right and wrong.
Beauty was confused for cynicism and honor
had lost its meaning.
We made our stand on the shadows
For we were not alone.
All the saints from St. Pious V to
to Joan of Arc awaited at the gates
to make new what the world made old.
The line in GK Chesterton poem in The Man Who Was Thursday that reads:
“The world was old and ended: but you and I were gay;”
The juxtaposition between the rambunctious energy of the youth and the tired and old false promises of the world hunted me ever since I first read this poem. It is a war that has been ranging since the fall of man, between the Good, the true and the beautiful and sin.
The other night this line pop again in my mind. Soon after I found myself writing the verses that made up these poor prose and my 100 post.