An Old Soul
By John Herlihy

I
He considered himself an old soul in the body of a child;
He walked among the pillars of the Acropolis feeling wild.
As he read ancient history in the primers of his school books,
The words enchanted him as he read them on tender hooks.
He roamed the court of Kublai Khan along a darkened hall;
Its lavish wealth and opulence held his old soul in thrall.
He flew across fabled Arabia Felix and its desolate kingdom,
Observing the harsh desert below with a profound wisdom.
Sensitive to the beauties of Nature far beyond his young years,
The sight of a firefly in the darkness could move him to tears.

II
He was anxious to grow up, fearing God’s day was far too long;
He carved delicate images from wood as he listened to birdsong.
He feared being locked up in the netherworld of unbridled youth,
Without having the freedom to soar on the wings of truth.
He read all the great classics of literature from cover to cover,
All the insights of these authors the human spirit to discover.
Growing old became an event like the meeting of old friends
Recognizing qualities and virtues that only old age sends.
If anyone tells you the human soul fails to make us whole,
I will remember my friend because he was truly an old soul.