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Poem

Existence is jam-packed with such deadly traps,
You would wonder why its Author made it so;
You never are sure and ever live on borrowed time
For its turns may any time deal you a terminal blow.

You breathe when you find you can,
And will not be there to raise a query
Regarding your untimely and unfair decease,
When short it’s cut your mortal merry.

You suffer and cry when you have a tear,
And still get more of the dreaded stuff;
You make new resolves but your will is weak
And so you forget them all in a huff.

You know the way you should go
But your legs are light and easy to tempt,
So you end up taking the wrong course
And end up ruing the resolutions unkept.

If a believer, you increase your bootless prayers
And hope that someone up there will hear your cry,
But find your very woes increasing day after day
Till you accept your immutable plight and cease to try.


Whether blind rich or church-mouse poor, every man has his woes;
The poor man is ever crying over all the possible opportunities lost,
The young will always have to contend unfulfilled infatuations,
And the millionaire will ever bawl over a business deal unclosed.

So rather than file on through the shortened pages of time,
Men should spurn all the care and feel happy throughout;
In plenty and in dearth, in love and in hate – 
For why invest in care and still have to doubt?

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