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