Permanence
This proposition we call life
is tenuous at best;
reach out, grab firm those things most dear
and jettison the rest.
For what will bring a man acclaim
and lift him to the heights?
The tease of accolades and fame’s
cruel escalating sights?
Or shall he build tall monuments
which edify his name?
The halls ring hollow when he's gone;
mere empty shells remain.
Perhaps great fortunes, once amassed
are where he'll leave his mark,
yet who will count his stacks of gold
when everything goes dark?
Or shall his job consume his soul,
vocation gone berserk?
As life yet slowly slips away,
none wish they'd done more work.
Or lofty words and turns of phrase
rolled sweetly off the tongue,
but who will breathe new life in them
when no air fills the lungs?
Perhaps a hint, a sweet foretaste:
at table, gathered there.
A joyful throng, yet some are missed:
a poignant, empty chair.
Yes, all fall short and surely fail;
no permanence, mere whim.
Nay, this is it: to know thy God
and to be known by Him.
----------
for the To lighten the load Poetry Contest
sponsored by Angela Tune
written 04/12/2022
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