Till, Sow, Water, Reap
And we keep on falling into tomorrows,
A spinning particle with a soul,
In harmony with the spheres,
Sure as clockwork,
Till that final moment,
We meet dust,
We become wind,
And then we are for a while -
a phrase, a song, a scent.
Falling then, into yesterdays,
Each descending further -
Soundless, breathless, lifeless.
Why then should we be, as if
'forever' is the blood in our veins?
Have we not heard the phrase -
'life and death'?
Till the soil farmer, till!
As you live -
sow, water and reap.
For only then ...
the swan song can be of
a 'life full of years!' …
That dirge laments not...
For the epitaph sings of victories
Copyright © Joshua Ryngksai | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment