Ending Point
It really doesn’t matter
how far you may go in a day,
whether ten, hundred, or thousands of miles,
because the place you fall is the place where everything ends.
For life is drifting water in a cycle of four seasons,
whether you possess more compared to others
or you don’t have a thing,
why not just move along with the water
carrying a worn-out knapsack on your back
that is slightly arched from burdens you have carried all along.
No matter how high you may fly, some day,
you must fold your abused wings and sit on a treetop
to watch your own gruesome shadow becoming a lonely tombstone.
Oh, I came a long way and am exhausted;
why not lie here without thinking any thing
anymore and fall asleep.
Copyright ©
Su Ben | Year Posted 2015
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
