(Thank you David from Authorblog, for recognizing this post as Post of the Day.)
These are moments we have, when dreams can still be there,hidden behind brambles and dead branches. If we cleared things out with a pruning tool and looked clearly across the pond-the murky waters and the fog, the structure that is our life will shine through.
Getting old is one thing; it denotes movement, change. We still feel the power to take action.
Being old is an entire different thing; it is a state of decay; leaks and dampness and sheer neglect have thrived in dark corners; doubt and self-loathing have spread like water marks: their significance worse than their appearance.
We may not want to clear the brambles and the dead branches.