Ode to age --- I don't believe in age --- I have for the last 40 years been 29---

All old people
carry
in their eyes
a child,
and children
at times
observe us with the
eyes of wise ancients.

Shall we measure
life
in meters or kilometres
or months or years ???
How far since you were born ?
How long
must you wander
until
like all men
instead of walking on its surface
we rest below the earth ?

To the man,
to the woman
who utilized their energies,
goodness,
 strength,
anger,
love,
tenderness,
to those who truly
alive
flowered,
and in their sensuality matured,
let us not apply
the measure of a time
that my be something else,
a mineral mantle,
a solar bird,
a flower,
something,
maybe,
but not a measure.

Time,
metal or bird,
long petiolate flower,
stretch
through
man's life,
shower him or her's
with blossoms and with
bright
water
or with hidden sun.
I proclaim you road,
not shroud,
a pristine ladder
with treads
of air,
a suit lovingly
renewed
through springtime's
around the world.

Now,
Now,
Now,
time, I roll you up,
I deposit you in my
bait box
and I am off to fish
with your long line
the fishes of the dawn !
And fish for pleasure after ???
No fishes... 
Only ?