Of Good Intent

There’s lots of things,
     Though good intent
          Goes with them all,
               Will not transpire
                     For all the deep
                          Desire within
                               Our hearts.

For will is strong,
     And hearts inspire
          The words to speak
               Of acts ahead
                    We now intend
                          To do –

But days and nights
     Gets cluttered up
          With flotsam,
                Jetsam of
                     The wreckage
                          Of our lives –

And prove to be
     Too short by far
          To ever have
               The time
                    Enough
                         To follow
                              Through.

We do not like it
     When our friends
          (Or relatives, no less),
                Bring this sad fact
                     Up to the point
                          When we too
                                Face this fact
                                    And cannot
                                         Dodge.

We know –
     And cannot dodge
          This frank display
               Confronting us,
                    That time has flown
                         And with it
                              Now, at last,
                                   All hope
                                        Of our success.

And that’s our sad demise,
     As we engage
          The day-to-day
               And year-to-year,
                    And witness
                         Good intent
                              Extinguished
                                   As we
                                        Go.

We think this life
     Will always be
          Just like today –
               Or yesterday
                    When energy
                          And quickness of our thought
                               Was felt to be
                                     The normal state
                                          Of action
                                               Day by day.

And then it’s done –
     The days and weeks
          Get shorter by the year
               As each
                    Percentage-wise
                        Makes smaller
                             Than the last,
                                   Enduring time.

And then it’s done –
     And death
          How e’er it comes
               O’er takes us
                    And our
                         Shortened days,
                              Until
                                   At last
                                        We breathe
                                               No more.

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