I run across souvenirs of the mind
here and there, from time to time,
I think how we enter the world not knowing our name
how we're born lonesome souls, and will probably die the same;
to understand these little gems
is to understand your own shadow will always be
your closest friend;
dreams start close to the heart and end so very far
it's not good or bad, just the way things are,
for the better or the worse, we keep it going
from the cradle to the hearse, perhaps never finding, never knowing
the reason for it all,
or why mankind truly had to fall;
it's simply the way it is,
in this strange life, we all must live.
life must be lived we are born to die but we must live until the time be happy live life to its fullest good write
So true, we are born then we die, it's what we do inbetween that counts. A great poem.
Very, very true Smoky, I like this heartfelt poem a lot. Thanks for saying it just like it is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful philosophical piece of poetry. Well articulated and beautifully penned to drive home the point - Vanity Upon Vanity. Lovely. Thanks for sharing.