I am afraid of decay. I fear it more than death for death is only a finality waiting at the terminal. Whereas decay can be lurking around the corner; waiting like an interloper. It can strike anytime, with no respect for time or age. It can cut down youth, slow down growth, make energy, static. All this by word or action or inaction; Silence itself is the worst kind of death, because it prolongs the agony by giving it a tacit approval, leading all to an untimely decay.
I am afraid of the worship of convention in youth. This will shut their minds to the fresh winds of tomorrow. They will be like closed rooms, dark and unventilated. There will be no fragrance here, no quick spark of spontaneity. They will be like old men and women, whose life has bypassed them, and they cannot look beyond, will not hope beyond.
I am afraid of the conservatism of the old that holds on to decay, and decries the buoyancy of youth. They have lived out their lives and need to let go of their progeny. Their palates are dry but their hearts need not be. The dry twig must smell the fragrance in the air, so that it can stay alive. .
I am afraid of the absolute truth to an unchanging, static world.