(The news of the death of dear and near ones reaching us on a daily basis has left me thinking of the transitoriness of life and hence this poem) Is not our life a wave of energy coursing through ether Just like flickering flames or fleeting gleams that fly Which when stopped, like a weed scorched by the sun Or a tree felled down by a merciless axe, we will die Is not our life a theatrical performance, Where we don the roles we are assigned Some, playing the roles of tyrants or kings While some act as meek minions consigned Is not our life a voyage through rough seas Where we paddle on and on over billowing tide Never asking where we are heading to Nor knowing through what currents we ride Is not our life the footprints left on sandy shores Washed away instantly by the incoming wave Not able to measure their length or width Or be traced as they immediately cave Is not our life as illusory as the mirage of the desert Staying beyond our grasp and endlessly deluding Soothing like an oasis among the dunes of sand Sometimes like a nightmare awfully distressing Is not our life a little space lying somewhere Between our infant cradle and our grave Where we have struggled to secure our slot But soon ousted by others who for our place crave Still we live on, never in despair but in hope That beyond this mortal life and its tangled ties Somewhere for us, eternity’s mighty portals await To harbor our souls when from deep slumber we rise!
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.