There is a measure of life
When statistics echo mortality rates,
For some few early, for other late.
When there is not enough time
Realization and panic are the weighs
For immunity is no one's fate.
Each of us is different,
And it's impossible to juggle the dates;
We must admit that time will abate.
The scale becomes unbalanced,
Is lopsided, one thirsts, hungers, craves and sates,
And it plummets while resounding hate.
Oppositely, it descends,
And reason or sanity communicates
Quietly, attempting to relate.
Reason becomes steadier;
It ebbs and wanes, over reacts and negates,
Seemingly calm, assured and sedate.
Then, discipline controls
And future unfolds for those of us, whose time waits.
On the morrow assent and goals mate.
