Glimmer Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

like puppies
some wont make it
but there is joy
in those that do
so isn't it a miracle
that you've grown up
seen, heard, hated,
touched, poured scorn
and, when
feeling blue said
'I wish Id never been
born'
well it looks to me
like it isn't up to you

The question is
do you count yourself
among the best
when everything turns
to cosmic dust will
you join hands with
the rest?

And as one day
the world boils dry
and there is no one
left to cry, to mourn
for life undone
will it be the turn
of those unborn
to root and flower
in some distant
celestial bower?