Born to die
Headlong you rush towards your
perceived, intended destination.
Eager to reach the journey's end.
Forgetful of an indifferent grave that
awaits with a cold embrace of dirt
offering scant, uneasy comfort.
Speeding, racing, hurtling through
the hours, days, months, years –
inexorably pursued by relentless time.
Oh, intolerant, weak creature!
How you are haunted by this
undeniability:
Dying
You are, from the moment of your
birth.
Copyright © Hidayat Adams | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment