So Many Days

There is always another day,
Faith in this falsehood tests one’s fate.
What if I were to pass away tomorrow?
With something always left for the morrow;
would the next life be one of sorrow?

Perhaps my compassion surpasses my hate,
but when passion calls, I take the bait.
If death came upon me this day,
ever so dearly should I pay,
for so many years selfish play.

Ignorant, deluded, a sorry state,
the moment of death does not come late.
Should my last breath be this hour,
too long have I lived so sweet, so sour,
undoubtedly, I would do naught but cower,

A moment, a snap, over and done,
it all ends, this worldly fun.
There is an escape from this dangerous lure,
for each defilement, I must practice its cure,
so that I might end my days pure.

Remember that even the next breath is not promised. I hope you are well today, friends. I will write again soon.


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