Man,s life

Man's life

Life is but a mere puff of wind,

One moment you’re here and the next gone forever.

Swept away to the edge of the disappearing sea,

Hidden from the sight of mankind.

Numbered are the days of his lifespan,

Where he spends most of his time in search.

Searching for something to define him,

Everyday tirelessly working to live a legacy.

As history has taught us over and over again,

Everything that defines us is all but vanity.

For no title acquired or success reached ever satisfies,

Neither can they add a man another day to live,

Possessions it’s what they only are.

Man spends most his time lost,

Seeking for treasure that he never finds,

If he does find, its never enough,

Thus becomes a slave, a slave to his desires.

Deeper and deeper they grow,

slowly consuming him until he’s no more.

precious creation a man is,

Created in His own image and likeness,

Meant to rule the earth and have dominion over it,

Every living thing under his care and protection.

But, nay! it’s not that way at all,

For instead of protecting, man destroys,

And instead of caring, killing is his proposition.

All from the same source of life,

From where all are created the same, none is greater than the other.

For man knows not about tomorrow,

Nor does he know the number of his days.

Man’s life, a mystery unknown

A share of pain, struggle and happiness.

A process of becoming,

While finding the meaning of life.