No, an irretrievable and solemn no
to the young I wouldn't wish to preach
even in these my fast eye-failing years
I know too little and nothing could I teach

for no living-life-well formula
does  I deem ever exist
knowledge is quagmire and sand
thinking belongs to the region of mist-

how I struggled and fell
the tears that brought no relief
the heart is numb and words it couldn't tell
in the limbo of  angst there was nothing to believe-

the little good if any I could do
is to allow the young to reach
out to life in every facade and tryst
in my silence their fondest dreams I wouldn't breach.