The disappointment, dragging its heavy feet,
As it wades through years of sinful thought.
The arrogance sticks; makes motion difficult
As the feet sink deep into the thoughtlessness.

We grow up, and then we stop growing
Our world seems right; their always wrong.
Is it disillusionment or superciliousness,
That keeps us sinking in unchanging stupor.

How can we ever stop growing as men?
How can the intellect stand still and gloat?
Might we not as well wilt and die?
Or wait, has the process already begun?