Wondering-Quarter of a Century

I write this while I'm in the hospital, not in any critical condition. But I question in my mid-twenties whether life should end before everything just turns into a clockwork of monochrome gears.

I see afar as I see life
Can it be sure it won't end once grasped the horizon light?
All these griefs and peaks of joy and sorrow
Time lingering the blues and stamping the yellow
And yet the colors of emotion switch, and twirl
We all carol the varieties, the deviances, and the feral.
Yet life is so simple, like how schools draw history in a line.
Like how the rope we hang on draws near the end of the line.
In a way the pen that draws that line, presses thinner and thinner, til ink runs dry.
Now once the beginning of a rainbow, then dimmers to a grey historic timeline.
Why not it be the end? Before fervor is gone, no possibility of kindle.
Can old dogs learn new tricks? Or is that a tiny hope striking against the inevitable?
Maybe when we reach a certain time, the impending moments become exceptional?
And have you noticed the rhyming and rhythm, this is all existential.
Alas, no matter how great can see behind the curtain.
As one or all can see their life as far as the light will unveil to us, that is certain.

Author's Note

I was having too much fun with this. Let me know if you did while reading it too.