Why is Life Short?

What measures have we with none to see?
Why wage wars in the name of liberty?
Our years are but the Autumn’s recurse;
when freedom haunted our spirits since birth.

Why do you enquire upon our hasty death?
Her secrets never parted our dreams.
You shut your eyes and plead for light;
she taunts and mocks our frailest pride.

Were we chained to dark cave walls,
we would ourselves live as gods.
Is not life short for our greedy hearts?
Are not graves our self-loving art?

But brood not o’er our passing eves,
over the mere nature of flowering leaves.
Paint on the canvas of your mind,
in years how you would this hour find.


Why must the beauty of life we miss,
in fragments distant yet dear?

Why do we chase after our beloved,
if she can never be near?

A world too finite for our childly beings,
besotted by the labyrinth doors.

If we were mere ladybugs,
would we then gaze at our world in awe.

Published in: on 24/11/2015 at 10:47 AM  Leave a Comment