WIP

Death will be here, in a flash, in the flesh,
in a moment of inattention.  
With the trickery of time, a long line
of events seems to lie before that moment,
or so it seems...

so many dreams held,
of the future interrupting,
that it seems to disappear
into the future, like perspective,
a dot indiscernible
with your mind in the present.

And so my present dominates
and all my hates of that condition
that is mans and beasts, to die anon,
is turned to song, a love of life,

the usual search to find a
wife or lover, run for cover,
many tasks each day just cover-up
the knowing, as I, sowing, farm
the joy in everyday.