Sonnet

When I do think on the past days of my life There seems to be a thread I do realize From the moment of my birth `tis but a strife Each step takes me closer to my demise Life`s a journey, it is often said A world of mirrors that can bend and stretch This realm of ghosts, ne`er to know what`s ahead Struggling till Death comes all of us to fetch But of that day and hour knoweth no man We scurry hither and thither, then go suddenly sour Spoiled so soon; the game we barely began The ominous bells are tolling, hour after hour The curtains rise, and fall they must We are made from, and must return to dust