I’m slowly realizing just how finite
we all are, that my days on this Earth are
numbered. but I know, too, that death is just
as impending as any other far
prospected tomorrow that I may face.
Tomorrow may come in the shell of an
Adventure; it could be the day I find
the courage to live, that I desperately
seek. Perhaps today I will find nothing
Or maybe what I look for is by now
found. Recently my days have been passing
quietly. I’ve been keeping my head down
And living life tidily, afraid to
look up and find that what I might see is
just another day quickly passing me.
But my head has been held down for too long -
I’ve been watching my feet move busily
While I should have kept my eyes on the stars
Turning slowly in seasons like the leaves
on the trees. Instead I have only watched
the slow and sickle buckle in my knees
Where have my eyes been focused as of late?
I could have sworn that ten years ago was
only a yesterday ago. Instead,
it is a recollection floating right
behind the veil of memory that has
become too transparent to really see.
Where do we draw the line between today
and tomorrow; when did the spilt blood of
then trickle into the veins of today?