it

is short, fleeting, meaningless and yet filled with
meaning — 
the years march on,
our loved ones lost,
new smiles born, unaware
of life’s cruel joke
to fight to live the best years
never long enough, 
always too long ::
finding happiness in yesterday
a day too late.
Faking a smile and,
maybe it will fake you,
trick you into believing
that all the world isn’t fading
faster than you can catch your breath
as life is a terminal illness — 
and what’s our final wish
for however many days we have,
as nothing is permanent
and everything washes away,
no matter how much money or fame we have,
no matter how beautiful or ugly we are,
we’re here — and then
we’re not
and we’re finding the balance of how much to care
which proves to be life’s most complicated equation — 
close your eyes and listen to a gentle breeze,
a child’s innocent laughter cutting through
a world suffocating from human terror,
listen, carefully, quietly, 
look up and watch the sky
melt through the blues
again and again
and never take it for granted
because it’s going, gone too soon
so that’s life…
so that’s what this all is.
The gratitude lies with a silent turn to
another simple, uneventful day — 
in youth there was the excitement for change,
and now, all I want is for time to freeze,
for moments to wait for me to catch up
as I’ve just fallen so far behind — 
But still I have the dirt in the ground
beneath my feet, my hands,
still I have what’s left 
of today
and tomorrow.