Life MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   The days pass, and slowly swell into weeks.

Weeks give way, and rise into the tide of months.

The months mount to make peaks and crests on the waves of years;

Which gently, continually lap upon the shore of life,

And we sit here, being soothed by their soft lull,

Not seeing ourselves grow in wisdom and experience,

Then slowly wither as the grass of the fields.

Never to fully realize,

Until we are dead,

That we were once alive.





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