Live On

These words may live forever, but not I.
Our time is finite, our mark eternal.
For in this life, we have but numbered breaths.
Air fills my lungs as I count anxiously.
No one tells us the time or place, why not?
Will we not know when the moment draws near?
Should we live unapologetically?
These thoughts come and go, fleeting yet cloudy.
Are we meant to question the journey's end?
Should we cover our eyes, enjoy the ride?
Is my legacy result of pursuit?
Will aspiration endure my timeline.
If I am gone and you are here, they have.

A Poem By Frank Danko