At what moment will be your last and who can know it?
Is it important for us to know? Every moment which is given
Is to be lived to the maximum of our being; we hope;
We wait; we think good thoughts and read fortune cookies
To Divine our own way, to know our own steps before we travel them.
The peace of our heart is of little concern, until it surfaces in our dreams,
Revealing disturbing inadequacies, long since unattended; intended obscurity.
Each moment should be lived in love for our opportunity to love.
The dead cannot know this; they had their chance; remembrances ignored.
We beings blindly search for meaning refusing to see the message given.
We look within ourselves, but the answer is not there. It never was!
The Truth is found in something greater than ourselves and the singleness of our lives.
Even with the mystery known, the stubborn heart refuses to obey what it can't control.
So we look on, needlessly; wantonly; desperately searching. Each day, another frustration!
If we lived on Earth eternal, most would never see that love conquers all, even our own selfishness!
Go on to next poem by Mark Edgemon: Courage Is Being Scared to Death and Saddlin' Up Anyway
Return to: The Works of Mark Edgemon