Its Getting Late
Each day, the inevitable draws closer
Our time is measured by the number of days and nights
How we’ve chose to live in each of those moments
Has become the summation; the totality of our lives
Many are depressed by the memory of past experiences
Or, anxious with thoughts of what’s to come
Their existence, is battling trivial emotions
Tragically, they succumb
In the end we create our own reality
Without the use of reason, it appears there’s hope
There's a desire for perpetual satisfaction
Which becomes an existential vacuous hole
Our perspective of living well has been distorted
Many have chosen wealth over a tranquil mind
We’re immersed in habitual compulsions
We’ve become slaves to the things in our life
We’re consumed with thoughts of a better tomorrow
We’ve lost the lessons provided by each day
The mirror – white hair and wrinkles
Troubled by the fact; It’s getting late
Preoccupations continue
Filled with hopes and fantastic dreams
All of life’s good intentions
Unfortunately ends so miserably
We’ve lived as if life is forever
Squander time as if acquired from an overflowing supply
We pathetically minimize our existence
The greatest gift is to live life
Copyright © Kelly Hitchcock | Year Posted 2020
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