A poem on aging

A new age
Is now upon --
I say goodbye
I'm moving on.

My twenties great
My teens some fun
Not much to say
'bout thirty-one.

A new day dawns
Through clear blue,
What the fuck,
I'm thirty-two.

At sweet sixteen
yes, half of now,
I glimpsed my core,
my path, my tao.

Now I'm lost
Can't see through trees
The road not taken
Beckons me.

I thought by now
It would be clear,
What the hell
I’m doing here.

Every night,
I toss and turn.
I’m not settled--
Still I burn.

I question what
I thought I knew.
Where's your wisdom,
Thirty-two?

I feel as if
I've regressed.
To simpledom
I've acquiesed.

The clock keeps ticking
Chimes time away.
Still frozen on
This spot I stay.

At thirty-two
Who wants to be
An empty drone
For all to see?

Barely living,
All washed up --
The same stale drink,
The same chipped cup.

I used to think
So differently
No commonplace
life for me.

What have I done
To make this so?
I talk to much,
No act, no show.

Still I laugh
And dream to be
The me I always
Thought I'd be.

Perhaps I'll find her by thirty-three.