Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Is This all There Is?

Am I 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 life but a temporal means
until the swaying ever-greens
weep on my tomb?
The dust of all is equal there
No evidence of wealth or care... death my doom?
and what of all the tears I’ve wept?
Is there any tally kept
Of joy or sorrow?
When the beggar and the king
rest side by side at evening
with no tomorrow
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 reason?
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
The grave is but a dust-clad door
That leads to God


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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique