Taken At the Flood

If brevity‘s the soul of wit, why then All life on Earth is well and truly droll. We hardly comprehend it all, just when Too soon, we find ourselves before the goal. At first our ignorance may keep us safe, Distracted from the truth that all is brief, Without unkind reminders which might chafe, Or lessons which might breed in us belief. We, heedless, draw the water from the well, Assuming an unending, cheap supply — Presume existence is a tide whose swell Will never turn, remain forever high. But ineluctably, time’s ceaseless flow Will trap us, helpless, in its undertow.