Who Is Man Really? Poem by Grant Howard Bunce

Ebbing tides remove the footprints we leave in our lives.

Lapping waters rearranging the sand ready for the next players to enter.

For a brief moment man stands on the sands that slip through his toes and regrettably through his hands.

Unfulfilled puny man, who couldn't really make a difference to this world.

In dust he sleeps.

Is it a better place now he has gone?

Did he stop world poverty or the bomb? Heal the sick or mend mans path?

Oh puny man full of dreams and hope, reaching the end of his days, alone.

Everyone is alone at the end of their days.

When death comes we face it alone.

GH Bunce 2016