The day leaves me somewhat melancholy
Due to a story I heard recounted.
It's about a life, a love, a death observed
By a stranger across a garden.
From afar she saw the pieces played
Unfolding as the months went by.
From happiness and living pleasant lives
To weakness, despair and loss.
I, just a random listener with a radio
The story makes me pause.
I identified with the tragic soul
Not the observer from afar.
Do I stop and reconsider now
The path on which I live?
Do I think ahead and enjoy this
Comfort and security while it lasts?
We're curious things, we humans
When confronted with mortality.
Loath to break free of our routines
And so to face possibilities so dire.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
The day leaves me somewhat melancholy
Due to a story I heard recounted.
It's about a life, a love, a death observed
By a stranger across a garden.
From afar she saw the pieces played
Unfolding as the months went by.
From happiness and living pleasant lives
To weakness, despair and loss.
I, just a random listener with a radio
The story makes me pause.
I identified with the tragic soul
Not the observer from afar.
Do I stop and reconsider now
The path on which I live?
Do I think ahead and enjoy this
Comfort and security while it lasts?
We're curious things, we humans
When confronted with mortality.
Loath to break free of our routines
And so to face possibilities so dire.
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