The end of the start

A Poem by Middling

Quick Long Hours pass by
A malaise of thoughts
Quiet songs of sighs,
A path through a maze to be wrought.

Time ticks on by,
Thin seconds and small minutes.
We’re in it to win it,
But what it is, we know not.

Three hours more or less,
Sixty marks, four or twenty
Proudly we look at our structured mess
And think we are the best
While the rest scrawls and scribbles,
We think we have won our final test.

Empty words full of expression,
Explanations without impression.
Our knowledge without reason
For these we are charged with our treason.

Time is our enemy in this world
To read a book though,
It first must be unfurled.
Many chapters of woe we do read,
The final chapter our final deed.

Time is our enemy in this world
The counting clock our great adversary,
Hands pointing to the end
Our fingers writing wearily,
The sands of time slipping away,
And we wonder is this the way?

Long years into weeks
Many knew not what to seek,
In this malaise some found maturity,
Others already had,
And could answer the questions with surety
Others knew the way, but did not want to say
And pawned it off for another day,
So they could live for today.

Our Optimism turns to desperation,
Our dreams paper thin.
Hope is our last refuge
As we wait for the fin,
Patiently we wait for the final refuse
Complacency and sloth our only sin.

© 2010 Middling

Author's Note

Im open to suggestions and crticism

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Featured Review

Alex W

A great piece on the inevitibility of death (Or atleast that's how I saw it lol)

A really like this, you have a very unique style which works very well.

I actually think this doesn't need changing much at all, it's a very good piece. The only thing I might change is the line, "Sixty marks, four or twenty" as for the life of me I don't understand that bit lol.