Pass the Torch

In a world of such sights of wonder

There are those who are forgotten

Hiding right beneath the noses of the naive

Behold the ones who've come to pillage and plunder

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Running at the highest of speeds

Always, they are the ones forever on the go

The twenty-first century is filled with their kind

But they are the ones not planting their seeds

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A dying breed of which the world still has a need

None knows yet how badly their loss will be

Their special kind laid down tracks for others to follow

For they always knew what needed done to succeed

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Follow the herds as you're corralled into nothingness and sorrow

The young demanded it all be handed over without a fight

For the amassing of influence and power is not so easily gotten

And those unwilling little souls will have to learn to work tomorrow

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The dying breed knew that there was no guarantee in this life

They clawed and fought for their little piece of the pie

But to leave the young so weakened and incapable of the fight

Papercuts break them more than the old when it was a knife

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That dying breed knew not everything about living

They worked until they had given their blood, sweat, and tears

Forgetting to save a little of themselves for ones that really mattered

Leaving behind a hurt and depressed generation, much less forgiving

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Now, today has come, and their time is far shorter than most

All they can give is a wisdom still unheard

Soon they must pass on the torch to the next

Their lives and memories ending up much less than a ghost

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They are the forgotten ones of our time

Aged out of the world around them

Stronger, and with no brakes to be found around them

But the world still commits the crime

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Forsake them if you will

But the price is something you'll end up paying

Treated them better than you did, you should have

For had you done it right, for you they would still

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Be everything that you need and more

Working around the wrinkles of time

To feel useful and have a purpose in the world

Until in a pine box, and on their story, they close the door

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So much is wasted on the virtues of youth today

Do not forsake those with something to offer

Old and pained was always their way of living

But they always showed up with something to say

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Someday they will pass the torch

Give it all to the young and naive

Hand over the keys to the kingdom

As they spend their final days with a tea on the porch