Standing before the mirror of life

I stare wondering when and why.

How it came to be so wild,unclean,

like a broken hour glass,sand spilling still.

I wonderhow it could be after life forseen.

Is it the greying of the hair

or the wrinkling of the skin?

Maybe its revalations,seasons out seasons in

Alas! tis the sand manfast asleep,

or maybe Atlas surrendering in defeat.

Today being tomorrows yesterday,

earth rotating twenty four hours a day

Be it sun or maybe rain,

I wont strain,come as it may

Life forseen is life unlived

Dreams unclean,future obsolete.


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