Is This Really It?

Am I a proprietor or slave?
The toil of both lead to the grave
Do they not?
And is there any merit then
To strive to do the best I can
With what I’ve got?
Or is it just a choice of means
Until the swaying ever-greens
Weep on my tomb?
The dust of all is equal there
Is there reason still to care?
Is death my doom?
Has any seen the tears I’ve wept?
Or is there any tally kept
Of joys or sorrows?
When the beggar and the king
Rest side by side at evening
With no tomorrows
Will one be of greater worth?
Or is this life upon the earth
A grand illusion?
A little blip upon a screen
An actor in a random scene
Of mass confusion
Is this really all there is?
A journey to vast emptiness
No rhyme or reasons?
From the cradle to the grave
Is this the breadth of all we have?
Four quickened seasons?
How dark then, growing old would be
A hastening of futility
To cold, hard sod
Beyond this life is so much more
Death is but the wondrous door
That leads to God……….

Janet~

I’m so glad there is One
Who sees each step I take
My little successes
And every mistake
He sees my smile
Counts each tear that I cry
Thus by the grace
Of God, go I