An old man sat, looking out at the ocean,
Watching the ebb and flow of the tide.
A young man sat, feeling only emotion,
A burning sense of pride.
'Can I have your youth?
Ah, what does it matter?
I rode the sea a long time.'
'I've yet to set sail,
But my dreams are shattered,
The treasure's not yet mine."
An age, a season, an ultimate reason.
The tyrant, the victim, the winter, spring.
Hands of a clock, little boy's rocking chair.
An old man's treasure, a prince and a king.
'Observe the waves, see their power and glory,
They are our teachers, leading us on.
They come and go, yet, they're always there for us.
Their wisdom's never gone.'
'Come, show me your book, the wealth of your pages,
Each picture and it's story'.
'Now, now you must write,
For this is the new age, there's little left here for me.'
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