Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2020
For all things there is a season, a time for everything under the sun.
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather.
But -
Forgive me, if i spend my whole life questioning this -
Time.

Why is it my lot in life to work and be happy with it.
Am i nothing but a brick in the wall.
A mist that appears for a drop of time and then vanishes.
Merely a stem - some may bud, the lucky will flower
but all will wither and fade away.

Forgive me, when i say this -
For why should evil stick his face in mine and mock my happiness.
I am selfish, I am ungrateful
How can I enjoy this fellowship with injustice?
Where Love stands, hate reigns.
Where Peace sings, war screams.
Where Happiness dances, sadness breaks its bones.
Where Breath lives, darkness suffocates it.
This is human - self-destruction,
Created in love but born to sin.
We know of nothing else, until we find
You -
Ardent patience, Yearning salvation -

This is human - saved for nothing.
Written by
Shannon Ní Bhriain  24/F/Ireland
(24/F/Ireland)   
335
   Kat
Please log in to view and add comments on poems