On Borrowed Time

O ne lonely life is offered knight or knave,
N o second chance is sent, though some would seek
B y bell, book, candle to sustain thread weak,
O r mask the blinding darkness of the grave.
R emember, ‘Carpe Diem! ’ Coward, brave,
R aise equal dust when ploughed, while pauper, sheik
O wn an equal plot when past plots speak
W ith Lethe’s tongue, and young men fresh paths pave.
E xistence fires derisive pyres, we’d wave
D eath’s dancing grin aside, but no technique
T hat’s known can conquer Time. Each day, each week,
I s sacrificed. Man stays the Future’s slave.
M inute more is minute minus [s]tress, -
E very moment leaves Man’s little, less...

© Jonathan Robin – acrostic sonnet written 28 September 1992

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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