Men Who Still Cry at Age Thirty

Gone are the days of old,
of thriving warrior spirit,
of ankles not yet weighed
by the iron shackles of society,
of men who once lived free.

Gone is the time of passage rites,
of free flowing blood,
of boys prepared at fourteen
to earn their prize of manhood,
of hearts hardened into stone.

Here are the days of aged youths,
of glory lost and broken will,
of parents and teachers and pastors
mixing ideal with being,
of spirit lost to myth.

Here is the time of shiftless souls,
of softened skin and mental woe,
of insurance and taxes and bills
all waiting to be paid,
of men who still cry at age thirty.