The Precious Present

Finally I came to know
The present is a gift to treasure
In this life, so brief and hurried
A precious thing you cannot measure.
Yet plodding on our weary ways
We plot and scheme and plan our days
Demented things, our lives ablaze –
We seek our mortal pleasure.

And scurrying through our early years
In thoughtless ways we forge the chain;
Create the lie, acquire the wealth,
The dream becomes a lethal bane.
But as our summers turn to fall
And shadows grow increasing’ tall
Our passions less, no more in thrall,
We seek to loose the skein

How quickly did we spend our youth –
Rushing from cradle to the grave;
The more we have, the more we want,
The glittering trophies that we crave.
But should we pause to see our prize
We’d view our hoard through other eyes
See what is truth and what is lies –
Materialism’s slave!

The road ahead grows shorter now
But I am gently cast adrift;
I smell the rose’s sweet perfume
While sands of time flow ever swift.
A time will come, a time will go,
But I shall let my heartbeat slow,
Enjoy the natural ebb and flow:
The present’s precious gift.

Freespirit © 2004


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