ON THE TROT

Like cats we never walk but trot
And when we reach the goal we sit
Just doing nothing, with a yawn
As nothing's waiting to be done.

This is the case of man on earth;
We run like mad men out of breath
To reach an aim but when we do,
We sit and laugh at that ado.

So grim is life with death at end.
It stirs the fear in people's mind
And urges for something secure
To find an end that can endure.

Some men may find it with morale,
That can endure in bliss or hell,
While others keep the search to find
Immediate outcomes in their hand.

They keep the search in nervous ways
Forgetting time and passing days.
When they get somewhere, they find life
Has reached its end and was too brief.

We envy you dumb, trotting cats;
You've lived your life with no harsh thoughts,
While thoughtful man has wasted it
In search for some obscure target.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________