Crock Of Life Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Lights burning brightly in the dark of night, disappear
suddenly turning off.

Everywhere around, darkness has enveloped the earth in
blackness, abounding.

There are no ways to go, no road to walk, everything has
been plunged in midnight darkness to hide evils of men
from curious eyes.

Standing edgewise on the brink of day, there are no handles
to grip or prayers to pray, before falling down off either
side, leaving life alone, behind.

There are no reasons for reaching out or touching lives of
others, because there is no love to stand the stead, and
test of time.

All work is carried on, without thought of people who are
doing it, trying to raise money for wife and kids.

Life is a crock for all who are alive, yet, maybe it's better
than the crock of death, for a least we can still move about,
trying to correct the many wrongs we find.

In death, we can only look forward, because our minds are
turned off and we no longer remember the life we once lived.