All of life is hurried, we're in haste,
To put it all together we do strive,
If but a moment’s restfulness to taste,
We work much like a bee does on his hive.
We stroll each day down twisting turns of fate,
Our schedule staying two steps in the lead;
It seems we're never early, only late,
There is a hope that one day we'll succeed.
Never satisfied with fortunes boons,
We press against the prickly thorns of time;
This life a desert, just beyond its doons,
Eternal winds are rustling the chimes.
Wise is the soul that hears the call divine,
“Seek not thy will or way but only Mine.”
This poem was a finalist in the May 2018 poetry contest