What Profit, then, in contemplating ends

WHAT PROFIT, then, in contemplating ends
While things begin, at midpoint, at the last?
We know that tricky time just warps and bends
Perceptions of our now, our then, our past.
We celebrate a birth e'en though we know
That fleeting fame leads only to the grave:
But for this life, death would not be a foe
'Tis ends make moments rare enough to save.
Indeed, our moments make eternity,
What matters matters 'twixt myself and thou,
Connects the ancient with modernity:
The only true forever happens now.
  To know that night will fall before too long
  Must not diminish wonder at the dawn

RonRisley – 06 Apr 2005