Tuesday, May 10, 2011

These Hours

When these hours lie behind us
With its fleeting minutes shed
When they’ve sifted through our fingers
Into sunsets flaming red
Will we sleep in sound contentment
Or in sorrow hang our head?

When the sun was high and golden
With the sweat upon our brow
Did we ponder what we’re holding
And where it would be right now?
Oh, and did it make a difference
As life's moments ebb and flow?

The fool gives careful heeding
To his sublunary worth
The wise knows he is needing
What is not attained on earth
While Time’s incessant bleeding
Fills a sea of tears and mirth

When these hours lie behind us
In the vaults we cannot touch
Will we wish that we could reach them?
Would we change them very much?
Or will we sleep like children?
Mindless of the past and such


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