A frail and brief thing
It is this thing called life,
held together by a tenuous faint line.
Love is high in excitement
As lustful passions do race
Yet even it fades in time.
Eager days of youth burns
Fast its candle at both ends
With the breath of eternity.
Through foresight of experience
And wisdom’s repeated play
The aged reap the rewards of longevity.
If only the most elderly among us
Could embrace the vitality of
Bygone days without death; what joy.
The sorrow of regret is to miss
Clarity, before embarking into
The harsh lessons of the undoable.
The shame of failure is that
Achievements grasp are lost to
In the distractions of the heart.