On my overgoing

Four stages in youth hath yet I known:
Of vagrant spontaneity bereft of thought
When seconds were lived and days were thrown
And delight, my very purpose begot!

Unto borrowed words that I called my own
I concluded one's whole purpose was naught!
Through inconsistent justification had nihilism grown
For without experience, one is mistaught.

Alas, my years unaccounted! Did I bemoan
Whereat purpose my existence sought
Each man is condemned to choose alone
And by self must one's path be wrought.

Verily time hath told me, their lives hath shown
It is not in the find of what one has sought
But in a becoming - to have yearned! To have grown!
And then share the ken thy learning hath brought!