the sad thing about getting older is I spend time showing younger men (people? mostly men?) how to hold a sword, and their world scares me
scares me, perhaps, more than anything else, more than death, separation, pain, loss, change
a yawning chasm of responsibility,
which, though it gives my life some sense of purpose, is no excuse for going broke
Show them how to keep their swords sheathed.
It is the responsibility of the strongest to support the weakest in this world. That’s their purpose.
Pushy, and unqualified to offer advice.
Do you have an alternative suggestion?