A Race In Haste, Wastes Life
A poem about choices.
twice the words, of old no one seemed to care, it starts to fade now, as the writing disappears
one does stumble upon, the relics that once gave joy to men of old who ran as young kindred boys, a feeling lost in time
for travelers who’d pass their graves never knowing the man, who loved an entire race old but forgotten fools, whose life was all in vain
yes, death robs you of the joys that once made you brave, no one will escape the wrath of time, how you treat it with charm benign
one walks the plains in search of peace, never know what might be inside, the land on which they step in haste, never knowing the truth of joy
it is the peace, that does reside when you stop and think, rephrase your voice do you then actually do realize, that life is but a bundle of joy
