The Life of Days

A day is but a life lived, so don't waste it

At 12 am, I cannot see too much, everything being so dark at the stroke of midnight,

The only saving grace is all the light on a clear sky with star and moonlight,

Celestial objects shining upon me, watching me, as the sun has disappeared,

This is the time that every single culture tends to fear.

At 6 am, the sun returns once again, rising out of the horizon at an arc,

Black now turns to red, orange, yellow, and the beginnings of a new day,

This is the time at which we hear the roosters sing and the dogs bark,

This is the time we rise out of our slumbers as we are hit by the sun’s rays.

It is noon, when the sun is at its zenith and its arc is at its vertex,

The time when the sun begins to beat down on our necks,

As we prepare for lunch, and for some, the afternoon nap,

And we hope the rest of the day will be the better as we tilt our hats and caps,

It is 6 pm, and the sun is ready to set as well,

Returning us to the darkness of the night,

This is the time that the farmers decide to ring the dinner bell,

As it becomes dark from orange and yellow and red when the sun leaves our sight.

A day lives, a day dies, a day has darkness and light,

There are times when things are and are not in sight,

And one is forced to endure those with great might,

In a schedule of 24 hours, an amount of time that must be held tight,

A day in a life is like a life itself, with a beginning middle, and an end, with a seeming afterlife,

For midnight is a moment unlike no other that seems surreal and beyond this earth,

Such as the afterlife, a time that seems rid of issues and strife,

And warmed by the heat coming from the hearth.

Just as you don’t squander off your life, don’t squander off your days,

Each day is an opportunity to do something for the world,

Read books, learn, make changes, build new things or put things into play,

And see what not squandering days has made unfurled.