Borrowed Time
A meditation on mortality, friendship and the fleeting nature of life, reflecting on what remains after death.
On hearing what her fate does bring,
The halcyon days with my best friend, gone,
Forever; who can live without concern?
Each second of being is borrowed time.
Nothing death leaves but a vacant space,
A place I’ve avoided for quite a spell.
My friends will come & pay their respects,
After food & dance will return to their homes.
& my family will probably still be crying,
As my friends organize their next party again.
Once you’re dead, what happens then?
Your presupposed nature will reel you in.
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