Sitting Seeking Pity
Never will these wounds known that I carry,
Affect you directly.
When I earned my scars you were not involved.
Not to see them inflicted when I enlisted,
Into the military.
Not to hear of my friends being killed and buried.
Or the toil that took on my emotions.
I've already done the numbing of the mind thing.
You were not there,
To see me grieve over the death of my son.
Or the pain I felt blaming myself and everyone,
Regarding how that was done.
Or when both of my marriages ended!
And I was then still quite young.
All you know is what you see.
You have no idea what is inside of me.
Or the devotion I still have for my family.
After years now spent not seeing my mom and dad.
Very close those feelings you will not believe.
Or seeing them die that has left me sad.
Nothing I do has been magically produced.
Even forgiving myself and others,
Has reduced me to tears at times.
When I know of those folks who have sacrificed their lives,
For their beliefs.
As you wallow away in pettiness...
To complain about your issues.
And how from you they wont leave!
While you invite them on a daily basis.
And you say of me for you I show no empathy?
You have no idea how much I care!
I am just not like you.
Sitting seeking pity.
Because my cries for help,
Is all I choose to do!
My knees are not intended,
To be bended and kept knelt!
Never will these wounds known that I carry,
Affect you directly.
I am too aware of those steps I've taken.
I am too aware of what it takes to celebrate life.
And too much aware of a happiness,
I have chosen to separate from what has happened.
Pulled out of despair and dragged away from strife.
I will listen!
But I am not here to compare to share to relive.
Any of your agonies on your sleeve you so willfully give.
I am here to assist your getting over it.
Not to sit with you and feast upon defeat.
I am not that kind of 'friend'.
And those friends you do not need.
So stop rehearsing your tragedies.
Let's take a hike through the park,
And hug a few trees.
Let's express to them our gratitude.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
On A Daily Basis
I am often humbled,
By those expressions made
Regarding my thoughts...
With any impressions,
They have laid to stay in minds.
I find I am fascinated.
Whether appreciated or not,
I have to stop sometimes to wonder.
This I've been doing for such a while now.
And I try to maintain a comprehension about life,
With curiosity.
And that isn't easy to express at times.
Especially when my feelings,
Are not heightened by a respect I should let show.
Finding a pinch given gets more attention,
Than a peck on the cheek with cheesiness.
And I ain't that kind of a writer.
And I've been attacked for being black.
Not because I express that!
But...
Because my comments offend,
Those pretending I should not notice bigotry displayed.
Or that I have not been in contact with racism.
I am aware of Disneyland but I've never been.
I can only elaborate on my own personal encounters.
Especially regarding my own life.
With obstacles, strife and tribulations.
Like others who write and many who do not,
There are things I dislike.
There are aches and pains and sufferings I've gained,
From this experience.
But...
Do I choose to dwell on them?
Sure I do.
When it feels good to do it!
But what purpose is being achieved?
A bonding with agony?
Please.
I was in the military,
With guys who bragged about their wounds.
And displayed scars like badges.
On the regular.
So many people carry and share their frustrations.
As if life is an experience only known to a few who live it!
And I've learned life is to be enjoyed!
With as much happiness one allows.
And I say allow!
Since so many choose not to do that!
Many have chosen to be victims.
Listen to them.
This is not denied.
When I discovered peace of mind...
I did not realize I had to pay for it!
Yes!
It ain't free.
And I did with tears, heartache...
And emotional investments!
With lost dignity too.
I held onto my identity.
I knew early it was precious.
One day my faith awakened me with sunlight so bright!
And nature awaiting my acceptance to share it.
I felt at one with the Earth.
I felt I had to thank it
For allowing me to leech upon its goodness.
And not to my surprise the Earth complied.
I expressed a gratefulness to God,
For all the gifts I received that came unwrapped.
I felt a release from entrapments.
And I rid myself of limitations.
Knowing if I was to be ignorant about anything...
Affecting my experience.
There was a lot of misunderstanding I refused to admit.
I had to let that go.
It showed on my face too much.
Today I choose to be naive.
About many things.
With a clarity that there is so much I'd like to learn.
On a daily basis.
I choose to have my life to live it.
Carrying around bitterness is such a waste of time.
Especially when time, as we know it...
IS for the most part,
A human illusion!
Made to market and appease frustrations.
And shopping can frustrate more than constipation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Calculated With 'Come-Hither' Stares
Aligning and finding the mind is attached,
To that Great One who knows...
All that we sow and reap to adapt,
More than we should carry on our backs.
But...
We do because it is what 'we' choose.
Believing our shoulders are for this to be used.
The Great One has nothing to do with that!
Learn to remove those unconscious traps.
Calculated with 'come-hither' stares,
Alluring to seduce with temptations to induce...
Senses of despair to bear,
More than we should carry on our backs.
But do because it is what 'we' choose.
The Great One has nothing to do with that!
Be aware,
Of those calculated with 'come-hither' stares.
Be aware of them.
Be aware of them.
Be aware.
Be aware,
Of those calculated with 'come-hither' stares.
Be aware of them.
Be aware of them.
Be aware!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is Behind These Eyes
You have no idea what is behind these eyes!
Because they may be enclosed,
Within an approachable package...
Some may accept or oppose.
Does not freeze feelings felt,
When someone chooses to expose...
Expressions spewed to deliver.
That I have been dealt!
Expecting that I should refute those I despise.
And let them disappear from wounds I may hide.
I do not deny my emotions a full ride.
Nothing intended to inflict,
Goes within me to just ignore!
Trust me.
I may not carry grief on my sleeve.
Or share a healing from a hurt!
But I do not forget,
A pain I have felt.
Just to turn another cheek!
Or a hurt.
Done with dirt.
I am made of flesh!
Not concrete to be stepped upon!
Although I am blessed to show,
I can undergo constant renovation!
But the framework of my foundation,
Is not without its memories.
Believe me...
Those are kept treasured!
With every lesson taught,
Not too far from observations kept!
Whether or not,
They are brought out into the open.
There is a history reviewed,
I know much better than you!
You have no idea what is behind these eyes!
No more than I know what is behind yours.
That is why I have grown to respect,
And not disrespect what I can identify!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pitching Away Bales Of Daily Nonsense
My scars and wounds,
You will never see.
A pain to relive...
Is not for me.
And it is not that I heal quickly.
Sharing that process,
Is something I do not believe.
Why should I wear my heart on my sleeve?
To prove my life has not been struggle free.
My scars and wounds,
You will never see.
A pain to relive...
Is not for me.
There is no reason for you or me,
To validate something we both can agree...
No one familiar with digging out of ditches.
Or pitching away bales of daily nonsense,
Is going to be doing that without a bruise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shallow Upfront and Hollow Underneath
The first time I became aware,
A declared friend couldn't say or spell...
My name correctly.
Or had not paid a visit to my home at all...
In none of the years I believed a friendship was endeared.
I realized those were not friends.
Perhaps acquaintances of shared conveniences.
The first time I recognized an ex-wife showed disrespect...
Well...
Why should I continue?
I guess I've said it all,
When I did say 'ex'.
This is the point I make...
That at first made me upset.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist,
To comprehend those feelings exchanged.
And from the beginning who pretends.
And 'who' deserves the reactions they get.
Folks have their own agendas.
And eventually this is exposed.
There is no need to show anger towards another...
If out of ignorance,
That is what they choose and chose.
Or chose to choose to do.
See it for what it is.
There is no need to wallow away in tears!
And those who are surfaced with secrets they keep,
Why be bother with those who are deceiving and weak?
Especially those who show themselves...
They can be shallow upfront and hollow underneath!
If you know you are genuine,
Leave these folks be! Leave them alone.
Don't you be the one left to rage and seethe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Choose To Heal
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
Tears cried as others measured my pain,
On a scale from one to ten...
Are days I've chosen not to live.
Again!
And again.
AND...again without end.
Why should I celebrate my agony,
On a regular basis?
What does doing this for me achieve?
A hatred and bitterness I pray from me will leave?
Or a constant search to seek validation,
How miserable my life lived can be?
NO!
For others that may be so,
To acknowledge without a letting go.
But for me...
My happiness comes with the knowing,
I can forgive.
Not forgot!
My mind wont let me do it.
But make attempts to forgive I can do.
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
I choose not to keep my healing wounds,
Left to pick to bleed repeatedly in anger.
I choose with faith,
That God will handle my business.
I choose with faith,
God has my back.
And will correct all that has gone wrong,
To make right for my life.
I choose with faith,
That God will handle my business.
I choose to heal,
Not to relive moments of my agonies.
I already know what it takes to moan.
I already know that process.
I've renewed my commitment to living.
And give my deepest respect,
To those who had experienced...
Untimely deaths.
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
I choose not to keep my healing wounds,
Left to pick to bleed repeatedly in anger.
I choose to heal.
Not to be left,
For the rest of my life dropping tears wept.
To spend in the process of mourning.
Riding high on the shoulders of grief.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Don't Know The 'None' Of It
You don't know the 'none' of it.
Guess work does not make it exist.
To say you understand,
When blisters appear on my hands?
You don't know the 'none' of it.
Not with these feelings felt I command.
You don't know the 'none' of it.
You can hear and choose to listen.
But these wounds I bear.
And from them you are distant.
I appreciate the thoughts you share.
And your caring shown I am aware.
But you don't know the 'none' of it.
That's why I insist this chat we chit,
Leave us to land elsewhere defined and planned.
I rather not discuss,
A subject that makes me cuss.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What We Both Need
You anger me when I see you in despair.
Because I know that is not where you wish to be.
You have the tools to lift yourself up.
But somehow you have chosen,
To be there to wallow...
And I wont allow myself to see you like this.
Remember when you said to me,
I alone can change my own destiny!
That I chose to sit,
With burdens and grief.
And if I didn't tell them to leave me...
I would struggle to stand.
And I welcomed my own defeat.
Look at you,
Rehearsing your pain and sorrow.
Do you need a swift kick,
To knock you into tomorrow.
Or should we trade tears...
To barter back and forth?
Or should we wait together,
For agony from others to borrow?
You anger me when I see you in despair.
Because I know that is not where you wish to be.
You have the tools to lift yourself up.
But somehow you have chosen,
To be there to wallow...
And I wont allow myself to see you like this.
And yet,
I can't leave you alone.
Come here...
Let me hold you.
Perhaps this is what we both need!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Wings
I felt wings being put upon my back
I knew there was no turning back
I had left this material world, and took
the steps up to the sky.
I knew I was dead! I just couldn’t understand
How or why. Why did I leave all that I loved
Friends, family, and my loved ones
To climb the steps up to the sky.
WHY? WHY? WHY?
This question kept pounding in my brain.
What did I do, am I going insane?
If I am dead, what am I doing here?
I feel myself walking on the ground.
Yet! I don’t hear no words, no sounds.
Am I between heaven and hell?
Then what am I doing here.?
Then I heard a voice say:
Sometimes spirits find it hard to leave
For in their hearts they do grieve.
You will learn that things are not what they seem to be
There is a difference between spiritual and reality.
They both walk side by side, and can affect you
No matter what you try.
You was chosen to leave this world
And that’s the reason you have those wings
For you will be into everything.
You will show people love, compassion, hope, and faith
Before it becomes much too late.
You will show people how to care, and how to share
How to give strength when there’s no one there.
How to move on in life, and go thru the struggles and strife.
There are so many things that you must do
That’s the reason that I picked you.
So spread your wings and spread them wide
For you have a long ways to fly.
There is someone waiting for you, and when you
Get there, you’ll know what to do.
So I flew to where he said: this was something I did dread.
The person that he sent me to see, was a relative that I once knew
Cancer cells were eating her away, and by her side her family did pray.
Somehow she saw me when I entered the room
She asked me if it was time- I said it was much too soon.
I told her she had to make peace with everyone she knew
And that would take a day or two.
She smiled and said: I understand!
Will you sit and hold my hand.
I held her hand till it was time to depart
For her new life was about to start.
She saw a band of angels in back of me
And they all began to sing.
HALLELUJAH TO THE NEW BORN KING
Now I felt that I earned my wings
Bringing people home was an exhilarating thing.
poem by Louis Rams
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Carry On
It's easy to fight when everything's right,
And you're mad with the thrill and the glory;
It's easy to cheer when victory's near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It's a different song when everything's wrong,
When you're feeling infernally mortal;
When it's ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
There isn't much punch in your blow.
You're glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You're muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
Carry on! Carry on!
You haven't the ghost of a show.
It's looking like death, but while you've a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!
And so in the strife of the battle of life
It's easy to fight when you're winning;
It's easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there's the man of God's choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven's own height
Is the man who can fight when he's losing.
Carry on! Carry on!
Things never were looming so black.
But show that you haven't a cowardly streak,
And though you're unlucky you never are weak.
Carry on! Carry on!
Brace up for another attack.
It's looking like hell, but -- you never can tell:
Carry on, old man! Carry on!
There are some who drift out in the deserts of doubt,
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labour with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there's the real sunshine of living.
Carry on! Carry on!
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There's big work to do, and that's why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry:
Carry on, my soul! Carry on!
poem by Robert William Service
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Never to Reopen
Serious I am,
About my life.
The people in it.
And what I do.
I give any way that I can.
And when the reception,
Of what I have to give...
Is not taken as seriously,
When taken.
Since no fluff do I leave.
Or intend to be perceived that way...
A door closes!
Never to reopen.
I am not on this mission,
To fantasize my deeds.
Or journey on a path wishful thinking.
I've stumbled too many times to get up.
To stand to fall and crawl.
Not caring if it is done in broad daylight!
I have no shame to claim...
Or will carry!
I am here to proclaim my existence.
Not to have it dismissed,
By nonesense doers and their shallowness.
And there are just too many of them...
Wanting but not doing what it takes,
To get things done.
And maneuvering...
Through that kind of indecisiveness,
On a daily basis,
Keeps the mind exhausted.
With thoughts of wishing to please.
Not me!
There are too many unconscious,
Throwing their emotions all around.
And I am not here to catch anyone's pity.
I've pulled myself out of that kind of darkness.
Serious I am,
About my life.
The people in it.
And what I do.
I give any way that I can.
And IF I can't?
I don't!
I close down.
But...
I'm always there and open,
For the ones I want around!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pictures Still Say What Words Can Not
I have no wish like others,
To feel and relive miseries.
There is nothing about sorrow,
That has an interest for me.
Some folks share their grief,
And can not leave these moments alone.
Folks like these I choose not to be around.
Nor are they invited near or inside my home.
I've had my days of weeping tears.
And for years they would not stop.
My heart has pounded in my chest...
Feeling I would pass out or dead I would drop!
But faith so strong I kept inside of me.
Even when those I thought were close...
Chose to leave me alone.
There was a message from God I learned from that.
When people think one is down and out...
They will make their true identities known!
And just how much time,
If any...
They have,
To make their feelings shown.
When one is flat on their back...
Folks can show where they are coming from.
With no need to express where they are at!
Or vocalize what they wish others to believe.
Pictures still say what words can not!
And some words unheard,
Can be the best one unseen can leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All The World
All the world's forgiving the change is all around
And people everywhere have seen the light in what they've found
It's a happy place in the human race
When all our lives are lived forgiving
All the world's for living when love is what you find
Despair and loneliness you've got to leave them far behind
Tell the clouds to go let the feeling show
It's great when life is full of living
Everyone's aware they know to change the world we've got to care
And people all should know should have happened long ago
Or could it be that I just now found out
Life is meant to share and it means the same thing everywhere
Living everyday, helping people on their way
Cause sometimes life gives everyone some doubts
Can I have time? Is it right what I feel?
At times I doubt what I normally know is real
But right now I don't know what to do
And it's all because of you
I could tell you if I knew that you'd believe
As slight and elusive as life sometimes is
Right or wrong as we both know we all can be
I could never have denied that I need you by my side
'Cause without you life don't seem that much to me
I can see an old man cry, it's his time to die
And life no longer gives him any breaks
He hasn't got a home, no one to call his own
Still he tells no one that it is more than he can take
When the time is so unkind, an empty future plays in your mind
When the darkness cries out to you, can you escape it?
What can you do?
All the world's forgetting the hate that filled our hearts
The times of selfish reasoning that keeps all apart
This world was meant to share, let them know you care
By making someone's life worth living
All the world's believing that this felling's got to stay
till all the world is living
till all the world is giving
till all the world is loving every day
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through Boobytraps, Deceit and Slander
My mission is to fulfill my own happiness.
And to share that with my family.
Keeping my eyes opened wide,
And stepping aside...
Away from those burdened by trivial pursuits.
And commonplace backbiting issues...
Does nothing to enhance my peace of mind!
And 'that' is my only objective!
I am not seeking conflict,
Or anyone to help me define who I am.
I am extremely aware of that.
And proud to express it!
And can't 'nobody' offer me directions.
With an interpretation of the steps I have taken!
I have found my own way!
Through boobytraps, deceit and slander!
And I am not trying to find,
Another mind to comprehend it!
It is what it is...
And deserved!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tears
Tears...
Dry them!
Do it now!
You've spent enough time,
Giving grief your attention!
I shed them myself.
Not for hours, days or weeks!
But years!
That's all I could do!
That's all I felt my eyes were in my head,
To produce!
I realized my tears were not being felt,
By anyone else but myself.
I could not borrow empathy for my sorrows.
I dried those tears.
Took smiling lessons.
Believed I could fly...
Until I fell off the curb from a high,
I thought I enjoyed.
But 'weed' does not last too long!
I asked myself what was wrong?
It was me!
I could not believe it!
I had wanted to believe my tears came from something...
OR someone else.
But...
They were rolling down 'my' eyes.
And that agony was mine!
It wanted me more than I wanted it!
I got rid of it!
I became my friend!
My 'best' friend!
And like all good friends...
I learned to enjoy myself.
I learned that my happiness was deserving!
I began serving myself dosages of happiness...
On a daily basis!
Tears?
You can shed them if you want!
But I am willing to bet,
You'll be doing it by yourself!
And if you're happy doing it?
Be thankful.
Celebrate!
However...
If you find yourself delivering tears?
Find out 'who' is behind the production.
And 'why' you are left to pay the cost!
Such performances are usually not worthy,
Of the price paid!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With A Microphone To Moan Into
The more attention they are given,
With a microphone to moan into...
To declare in announcement of their wounds.
Would lead anyone to think when observing this act,
That the ones who are speaking...
Were blinded and forced with others to become attached,
To inflict themselves repeatedly...
Without being aware of it.
And they whine publicly that no one cared enough,
To try to stop them from this doing.
Like children blaming their parents,
For the wrongs they choose to do.
And...
For being the reason why their lives have become miserable.
To leave themselves freed of any accountability.
Or responsible for the doing of their own misdeeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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End Of A Season
Here we are at the end of a season,
and as we depart today,
we take away all the memories
we have gathered during our stay.
We reflect on friendships we have made,
the ones we have lost and the ones we have.
Our leaving today is mixed with happiness,
sadness, and even a little regret
for the things we should have done
and did not get around to doing yet.
The happiness is all the laughter
we had while we were here,
the sadness if for the departed friends
whom we will never see again.
Though we will never see them,
their memories linger on.
They will still be with us,
even though they maybe gone.
As we leave today we must remember
the friends we have still,
and the new ones we have made.
As friends are so important within our daily lives.
They share our happiness
when our hearts are filled with joy.
Their comforting arms are around us
when times of sadness appear.
We must always remember
that we can never choose our family
only our friends, so our friends we must always
hold close to our heart.
19 October 2008
Author’s Note.
I gave this as my sermon on the last day of our season at the Western Town. As read, it to my congregation I felt as if I was reading a poem. Therefore, I have changed it to look like one. I never write conventional sermons, but ones that will appeal to any religion without offending anyone’s beliefs.
David Harris
poem by David Harris
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The Symphony Of Music
music has away of projecting
your every-emotion that you
have to give, the art of music
lives inside every-one that wants
to follow it.
the sorrow that it has
gives a symphony of words,
to express the inner-emotions
that music has to expose to
us as we listen to it.
the symphony of music
impacts us as we listen
and compassionately take
it to heart, as we start
becoming involved with
the symphony of music that
is being produced to us.
some-how the art of
music takes us by the
hand and moves us in so
many different ways that we
can't even explain to any-one
that is around us.
we take the symphony of
music as it moves through
us, as we listen with an open
heart and an open mind, and find
the boundaries that combines our
very emotions, thoughts, and feelings,
with the symphony of music that reveals
to us a whole new world of music to
us and being the people of the world.
but what people don't
understand and realise is
that the symphony of music,
goes deeper than what they
had imagined it to go, and
some-how not to show this
bittersweet side of me and
what the symphony of music
does to me and my feelings.
and to have it some-how
over-flowing inside my
veins is some-thing that
i will never-ever talk about
with any-one who knows and
loves me.
poem by Erie Diane
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Without the Expense of Therapy
I'm not this or that.
Or drive a Cadillac.
In fact...
I don't have a car at all.
And with the price of gas...
I'd rather sit on my,
Memories.
When I filled up my car.
And drove where I pleased!
To visit 'friends'.
Or just to witness different sceneries.
I did not do that...
To take for granted,
Where my life 'then' sat!
There is nothing like being aware...
Of having nothing valued,
That others care to share!
I don't have 'bling' or other things to impress.
From your point of view...
I have nothing to keep,
Anyone's interest!
And that suits me fine.
Since I do have peace of mind.
Unlimited.
And not one dime did I spend to get it!
Nor will you find me...
Wallowing in pity.
Because I have nothing you value.
To strut and flaunt upon the streets,
Of big cities.
Or belong to a clique.
You are doing your best,
To share fading pretentions with!
I never felt comfortable passing judgements.
Not the kind I am sure someday you will miss.
And every step I take...
Not one is placed,
As I look around...
Seeking to find anyone familiar,
To approve with explanation...
A way of life I find just fine.
And...
I might add,
Without the expense of therapy!
Am I touching upon a subject,
Too close that invokes a sensitivity?
You'll get over my provoking!
And the stroking of those jokes.
I am not one to enjoy...
That kind of teasing you employed!
You seem to have too much on your mind...
To define in these times.
Oh...
I did hear a rumor.
Psychologists have lowered their prices!
It seems this is their season.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like water bubble
May be mystery involved yet life is fully evolved,
We are to live here purposefully as resolved
We may express sorrow, pain and despair
But nature is there to welcome us with fresh air
How long we will go on blaming life impasse?
It has its own version and special class
Not all can enjoy it freely and purposefully
For it needs life angle to lead it successfully?
It can be taken as fun when everything is at feet
You can afford to mingle with people and greet
You are gifted with all sorts of luxury and treasure
Life is at ease and can be spent with pleasure
See the lie of starved people and dejected
They feel curse and all the time rejected
Their aim in life is not less than animals
Who carry on life aimlessly after arrivals?
Their aim is restricted to two square meals
They have nothing to hide or make deals
They are simply leading life for the sake of survival
No plan, no enthusiasm on their part for any revival
Everybody is aware of that life is like water bubble
With little slackness you can be in trouble
Life can be finished if you are not cautious
It must be prolonged and kept in motion or continuous
We are not sure of life after death
It is expressed in religious books as faith
Not much credence can be given without proof
And no one may listen to even if we shout on roof
So at the best we can make good use
Life as it is ours and we can choose
Where to go and how to spend?
Life is limited and may face any time its end
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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