In death people look alike.
Vacant stares, lights forever dimmed.
Whether the last breath was taken lying in satin sheets,
Surrounded by family and friends, in love or indifference,
Or alone and unknown in the hard cold streets.
One last gulp, one last struggle,
Fear, hope, expectation, then a realization.
That in a second, when darkness comes,
A judgement, a reckoning of how you’ve done.
A lifetime of pursuit, for what?
Diamonds, gold, silver and money left in a vault,
Of hedonistic pleasures forgotten in the last strokes of life,
Honors and recognition set in lifeless stone.
A lifetime lived for whom?
For people who could not care less,
Faces and voices who stay for a need,
For the insatiable, lusty self,
And a few who love and stay ’til the end.
A lifetime as weak as a flickering candlelight,
A lifetime as long as a breath,
A lifetime, a series of seasons,
A lifetime, the dash between your birth and death.
For what shall we live?
And for whom?