Futility
Trying to take back a single grain of sand
From the bottom of the hourglass
Is an exercise in futility.

But now that the falling sands
Have been in my face,
I cannot forget the sound of it collecting
And the other sounds that accompany
My slow progression towards erasure.

What am I to do then?
If fighting is a losing battle
And giving up is a waste of precious time?
How can I live? What does living mean?

I know that living is not:
wake up, work, sleep, repeat;
That’s the purpose of robots,
Of cold metal, without life,
Never working for themselves.

So I’ll live for myself,
Decide my own purpose,
And inspire others with the lust for life
That I strive to cultivate.

I will do more than exist
Because living is not simply
Not dying.

Be good to each other
And live each day of your life
So that when your last grain of sand falls,
You’ll have lived a life worth missing.