At last, he's turned the final corner
Of the blur, that was his life.
He peaked at such an early age
And now must face the final page.
The curse of vast potential was his barren oat to sow.
For often it is genius that strikes the cruelest blow.
Pregnant with possibilities
Bores stillborn futility.
When gifts are underutilized
They molt from blessed to despised.
From needy youth (for lust and food) ,
To aged man (for truth and good) .
All of life's, most rigid rules,
Invariably wither as we live along.
Alto Lee Thomas, Jr.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-grasp/
