We are fleeting lives, wandering across the sea of confusion.
How long we wander would be judged on the ever growing steps we take.
Such was the whirlwind across the sky.
It blew, flew;
running foots with non legs.
I was still a kid,
But counted my years beyond deeds.
Fleeting has life become when my eyes seemed opened.
What goods are left of evil?
And what evil could best describe the ugly side of goodness?
Life seemed to be an anchored wheel;
and run like an oil in a burning pan.
The beautiful teen next door—
She grew,
Young,
Old,
Ragged and tagged,
Even the little plant she sowed outgrew her–
all in the sight of my presence.
To what lesson has life taught?
Life always has its foots,
Meant for not many,but fleet.
Life is ever short,
But always seem long.