Sketch

Sitting under a tree as the night sky goes by, I watch awestruck to sparkling sky. I sit staring, when I realize how small I really am. In comparison to endlessness of space I am like a grain of sand. How will I be remembered in the sands of time? How will I be depicted in futuristic minds? Shall I be remembered as the brave, strong, passionate man who let nothing get in his way? Or the cowardly, weak, uninspired man who wishes he could have lived, instead of wasting his days? Will I find love or fall short of it? Will I be complacent or will I not falter one bit? When life brings me troubles and tribulations, will I wipe myself off and keep fighting the good fight? Or will I cower and fade, not surviving the night? All night I sit there in wonder, Until the sun comes out from its slumber. The dawn comes to start a new day, A ray warms my cheek as if to say, “Don’t worry about the future or the past or what they will say. Today is a present don’t let it waste away.” I get up, brush off my pants and give a big stretch, Knowing that the future is mine to sketch.