Life’s moments are grains of sand
In the hourglass of the human spirit,
If you allow those grains
To slip through your fingers
They become the dirt
You will be buried beneath.
If you do not cry
Your soul will dry up,
To deny love
In fear of heartache
Is a self-made heart attack,
When you choose
Not to laugh
At the little things
Is like wearing
The Grim Reaper’s face.
My many attempts
To inspire you
Was my way
To revive you,
But your vital signs
Tell me it’s too late…
So with regret
I will call it,
“Time of death, the moment you took your first breath.”
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Life’s moments are grains of sand
In the hourglass of the human spirit,
If you allow those grains
To slip through your fingers
They become the dirt
You will be buried beneath.
If you do not cry
Your soul will dry up,
To deny love
In fear of heartache
Is a self-made heart attack,
When you choose
Not to laugh
At the little things
Is like wearing
The Grim Reaper’s face.
My many attempts
To inspire you
Was my way
To revive you,
But your vital signs
Tell me it’s too late…
So with regret
I will call it,
“Time of death, the moment you took your first breath.”
