Life Passes
There are no warnings
A Syllabic 30 poem
Life passes so quickly; without a warning it may end, and yet we spend it chasing goals that come and go with the wind.
What does it mean, this endless searching, unrelenting races, unceasing pressure to be first in the end?
What is it that we’re after, what bright golden ring shines, and calls us from a distance? Do these treasures even matter when the last bell tolls for us; there is so little permanence.
We gather round, and solemnly pray the words we learned when we were young; what else might we near-silently say, before, in time, we take our quiet place in the long winding reception line?
The ones we touched in love may be so few, but this alone lives on to see the morning, this is all we ever needed to do.
This Syllabic 30 poem was written as a prayer for a friend of my second-youngest sister. He had an active life, with many goals and accomplishments, before passing away at too early an age.
His greatest gift, though, was his relationship with his son. And that is the one that his life will pass on eternally.
Thank you for taking the time to read! I deeply appreciate your support.
Copyright © 2026, Robert G. Metivier. All Rights Reserved.
If you like my work, please Buy Me a Coffee