On the Shortness of Life

The perfect balance,
wakefulness and dreaming,
there is always this to know
as if concrete and seeming.

Between our youth and age
the bitter and the sweet,
the more we know the less
we hold our destiny's defeat.

And so the travelled eye a glance
sees far into the thrill,
this shorter thing, a longing dance,
this flower for the mill.

Neither can we stand and watch,
nor can we idle by,
for longing brings us round again,
each step a grace-filled sigh.

A heart then brought to bear its own
that speaks its truth in days
will one by one each manifest
a night laid down with praise.

runningturtle87