Being

by

Faye Hoffman

Life's a dream,
it doesn't mean a thing.
Where only here by chance.
Just that moment of being.

Time is unaccountable,
we don't know when it ends.
Don't know when it started,
can't predict anything,can't depend.

Given names,so we are counted.
To have a place,where we belong.
Grasping on to anything,
for our lives to be prolonged.

But the truth is,
that by chance,
we are here,
like the land and plants.

Born from the ground.
Made from the sea.
Implanted by Nature.
A part of the scene.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at He Has Returned To Woolsthorpe
by: Francis Duggan
from: Wonthaggi, Victoria, Australia

To visit all of Faye Hoffman's poems, click HERE

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