In Doubt, Hope Remains
Coming into the years of mortality--
The truth is,
I was never away, even though
The young think they live forever.
There is need for reflection,
For restitution,
But not in the vain last seconds
of life.
Too late,
Too late:
When the horn blast blows out the lamp,
And we are silenced
Like snowfall
Covering the crocuses.
There is a hiatus of short duration
For this mortal frame.
Beyond that lies the vast unknown.
In all honesty it is so--
But still there is denial, as in youth.
In that denial is hope,
our final refuge.
(Literal interpretations are the
habitations of small minds.)
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.
