They rise like restless lions,
young voices roaring for the world -
roaring for comfort,
roaring for attention,
roaring for more.

Yet many among them
cannot tell the difference
between rights, privileges, and favors.

Some move through life
as though born mentally blind,
raised in the dimmest chamber
of forgotten morals,
where gratitude rarely breathes
and humility seldom visits.

Thus they grow -
not into steady oaks of wisdom,
but into premature branches,
stretching toward entitlement
before their roots have learned
the soil of responsibility.

For when kindness becomes routine,
and generosity becomes expected,
the hand that offers shelter
soon appears, in their eyes,
to owe them a palace.
And so the age grows louder.

Voices everywhere -
demanding, insisting, roaring.
Yes… roaring like lions.

But the tragedy of the noise is this:
They roar for everything
except the quiet virtue
that would make them worthy
of what they demand - gratitude.