Unfinished Advice

The book I’ll never write,

I pass to you, little ones.

All the pieces of my story,

I’ll take with me when I’m done.

I pass nothing on to you,

eyes that I will never see.

My thoughts, my dreams, my fears,

will die along with me.

What advice have I to give you? 

What can you not learn?

Shall I pen a pretty ode,

or cast a Grecian urn?

I spend my days in stories,

advice left by the dead.

Yet, I find that life is sweetest

when it’s not inside my head.

I do not trust myself to give you

words famed poets never could.

Of course, some works have lingered long,

you can read them, and you should. 

But don’t forget that rawness, 

the genuine, the mean.

Sophistication often drifts 

too far from what it seems.

Pay good attention to this world,

because it won’t be long,

your eyes close for the last time,

but you have seen it all.