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Mistaken Concerns
Contributed by
morelikelyrics
on
Wednesday, 12th January 2005 @ 07:28:02 PM in AEST
Topic:
Lifepoems
|
Today is the tomorrow of yesterday,
Proving such, that the future molds the past,
But when and where does time begin
To become the hours that are last?
Striking bells, the sounds of fallen sand.
In time, the grains shall sum the years.
Hours pass with spinning hands,
Their fingers pointed to our fears.
Time will brew, the sweaty brows.
Mortality defined by ticking clocks.
Frightened, we are, knowing life could cease.
Seemingly an eternal phobia in which we are locked.
Attached to possessions, the world has become.
Afraid to release, afraid to loosen grasp,
Afraid to lose these sentimental trinkets,
Afraid these memories will not last.
But in time, clean will be the slate,
And eternal sleep will come to mind.
Properties are not ours to keep,
Upon death, these are left behind.
Consider! For time is water, a necessity of life,
The seconds that most matter.
Without, night would arrive much uninvited,
As the sun would cycle without pattern.
For today is the yesterday of tomorrow,
And today, we shape the past.
Make most of what lies in hand
As if every hour was the last.
Copyright ©
morelikelyrics
... [
2005-01-12 19:28:02]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Mistaken Concerns
(User Rating: 1 )
by afterdark on
Wednesday, 12th January 2005 @ 07:32:03 PM AEST
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