Contemplation

Contemplation It is a mild sunny day I drive past the cemetery and know for a chance I should have been there. It is a beautiful place, but its inhabitants have no knowledge of this, beauty has ceased to mean anything, a well kept grave place is for the living. I live on borrowed time and know it, yet sleep soundly as I can do nothing, living in dread of death strikes me as a waste of precious time. I struggled for years to be somebody only too late seeing we all are nobodies, only beauty prevails and it can only be found when the mind is silent. I regret harsh word spoken to loved once, but not enough to keep me awake because I have found peace and have lost my tiresome ambition.