There are men far more devout than I.
Will you grieve them when they die?
The Lord cares not for talent or age,
So why do you place me on a stage?
I am the youth, the future, see,
But don't place all your hopes on me.
I am but one, though not alone.
A mortal being, truth be known.
Because I am young, you praise my try.
Yet you ignore those older than I.
Those, who when faced with reality,
Stand up, chin high, quite stronger than me.
Do not praise me for what I've done,
For men quite older than I have won.
Though they are twice as old as I,
They, too, deserve your cheers and cries.
So, next time you start to clap for me,
Remember those who before me reached.
I'm not the first to reach for the stars,
Or to strive for a goal, whether near or far.
Think, instead, when your thoughts do turn,
Of those whose fires let mine burn.
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