Another day
Must I get up... Is this new lease of life
A gift, you say... To what do I deserve
Such gift.... Or is this packaged punishment
For yesterdays I did not truly serve?
This sorry existence.... I never thought
Entitles me to fresh supply of days;
Why can't I make them all long nights of sleep
And let my dreaming mind explore the ways
That take me to the genies of the sands;
To serpents that entwine in comet's tail;
And naked hour is waving welcome hands?
The priests with sunken eyes, sonorous say
I must accept with reverence and grace
This gift of God and raise my eyes in thanks,
For He has smiled upon my sleeping face.
In cell of flesh and bone must I arise
And each new day with gratitude accept;
Life is a sentence every man must serve
Each new day tells of Time, there's little left!
Carl Muller |
