And so age slowly creeps up to me;
not so much in numbers as in 22
but in 22 YEARS of memories.
If each memory had its weight
I would be down to my knees,
struggling to even breathe.
If every happy moment had its worth in flight,
I would be to the moon and beyond.
If every sad event had its strike through my heart,
I would have nay a shred of conscience left.
Oh, the times I masqueraded;
like a phoenix dying and reborn from its ashes.
Do you ever see the world and wonder
what ever lies yonder
and be at peace with oneself
as time slowly buries you under?
Aren't we all but a speck of dust
in a world full of dust mites?
But dust is not seen in the dark
It only flits around within the sunlight.
Sometimes I feel lonely.
All around me, what do I see?
Wood, concrete.
And two furry little hamsters for company.
My friend told me this
'why don't you get a life?'
And that started me thinking
what is life all about?
Is it about me, or about you?
About gaining wealth or wisdom or power or knowledge?
Is it about what happens between us
or what happens around us?
Does it have a voice, or a spirit
Does it move on its own accord?
Can it muster its own strength
Or be played like a record?
Will it lead the way
or trudge along?
Should it invoke feelings
To whom does it belong?
Life.
We all have one.
One life.
But for some, they've lost their life.
Their life isn't live.
