So many of us really worry,
Of what will happen when we die,
But it takes time away from living,
At times makes living just a lie,
The grave is not important,
If you’re deceased you can not care,
If life is a futile exercise,
What in death can we share.
If a headstone is our only monument,
That through life you hope to attain,
But all you’ve learned along the way,
With death will it still remain,
With your headstone is anything said,
That through life no one really heard,
Was love the thing all important,
In this heart it’s more than a word.
If a life revolves in circles,
An un-ending ebb and flow,
When it’s all said and done,
What can that headstone show,
No indication how you lived your life,
Just prose etched into stone,
Were you surrounded by people,
Or was life lived alone.
We should concentrate on living,
Not consumed by impending death,
Our lives are meant to live,
Not worry about every breathe,
That headstone isn’t capable of conveying,
Were you good or were you bad,
Because evil comes in many forms,
It’s who you are not what you had.
A monument to someone’s past,
Yet where does the future lie,
Does today become non-existent,
Do dreams still live after you die,
The words contained on the headstone,
Change nothing for those alive,
If you’ve never lived your life,
Did happiness ever arrive.
Do you wake up in the morning,
With a smile on your face,
Or is every day a struggle,
An exercise of running in place,
The path that leads to the future,
Has that headstone as a destination,
And looking back it’s then to late,
We’re the product of our own hesitation.