Life's Last Comfort

Your life is a fake
and you cannot make it any better
since all that you have done is done
and can no longer be undone,
just like all that you never did
no longer can be done,
since life in general towards the end
is just a sum of sadness of lost opportunities.
What you accomplished will perhaps remain
for some to be appreciated
while the major part is just a sorry waste
that you had best forget and leave behind,
especially if you at all still can find anything to do.
There is a future always,
no one ever could discern or guess what it would bring,
and that at least will constantly remain life’s main excitement,
which perhaps could be your one and lasting comfort,
that as long as you remain alive, that will remain and carry on.

Poetry by Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2022-08-07 at 17:02

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I'm going to steal this line from you: life in general towards the end
is just a sum of sadness of lost opportunities.

You've written quite the meditation on life and futility, and I admit I have felt this way too many times. Good one.

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I have believed for scores of years that Mankind's ego makes him think that his purpose in being alive is to do, achieve, create something great, grand, or important. But the truth is (I believe) the purpose is to fulfill your place as being an individual facet/piece of the 'whole'. Believe it or not that unique facet/piece that One is, has so much importance because without it there would be no complete 'whole'. I could go on, but I will curtail it there, as I think it relates to what I read in this poem: A poem that is the result of deep, deep thought.