Thousand Years a’ Mote

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

If there’s nothing hereafter,
emptiness after sorrow,
the end to all morrows,
where does one stand thereafter?
Scores of years end so abrupt,
each breath a curse the Midas touch.

For not all that glitters is gold,
existence may be a canvas yet each life is a mote.
A thousand years a’ speck,
we have a few scores of note.
A million years a’ fleck,
The more I know, just how little one can know of hereafter.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s