As we progress in years is it not so —
That nearer death we question our own end?
For what lies there beyond we have to know —
And wonder how are lives will then extend;
I walk the streets my head hung low with shame —
The mystery of my fate is on my mind;
For I have treated life as but a game —
And ultimately know not what I’ll find;
Mortality now chills me to the bone —
For I have wasted God’s great gift of life;
Will I conjoin the Heavens or alone
Be sent below to face eternal strife?
I wish that I could sleep – turn back the years —
But know that this can’t be and come the tears.
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