|
|
back to poem list
|
next poem, previous poem
|
| Time Of My Life |
9/24/1996
|
Life is fragile, sometimes too brittle.
One can almost take life and break it.
Yet life always knows when that step is about to be overcome.
Life, so hard yet so natural.
To live is to have a place in my heart, for everyone and everything.
To write is to remember, the past is always the present.
My present is unique for me only.
I remember my past which becomes my present.
In turn, I transform my present to prepare for my future.
The irony of life.
What is life without death?
What is life without you, or me, or everyone, or everything?
My life is for me until it all crumbles.
When that happens, who will know?
Not me, but maybe the future has an idea.
|
|
|
|
|
|
[use > to go next and < to go previous. tab and shift+tab can also be used]
Copyright © Mirrorglassball 2009-2024
|
|