Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, “I have no pleasure in them”; 2 before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain, 3 in the day when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those who look through the windows are dimmed, 4 and the doors on the street are shut—when the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low— 5 they are afraid also of what is high, and terrors are in the way; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along, and desire fails, because man is going to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets— 6 before the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is shattered at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, 7 and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. 8 Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity.
Getting older under the sun without God is like clouds covering a land that has already quenched its thirst. It's shaking hands and bent backs, rotting teeth and dimming eyes. It's losing sleep over the sound of a bird, it's failing to hear what others are now saying. It's afraid of staircases and sees white hair looking back in its blurred reflection. It is becoming dust… again. And that is ALL that it is if under the sun without God: a dark shadow of what was once a vibrant flame.