THE SORROWS OF TIME

“There are many heartaches and many tears,

As we pass along this way,

We sometimes think we can’t go on

Or hold out another day.

We think of time as it goes on,

No matter what our fate.

It seems so cruel as it goes by,

It simply will not wait.

A moment kind, we want to hold.

A time when we feel free.

But time goes on no matter what,

And makes all a memory.

A troubled time, we wish hadn’t come.

But it came, so real and true,

We think, “If only it had not been.”

What different things we’d do!

A time of youth we’d like to keep

But time makes all grow old.

We think of what we used to be,

And it makes our hearts grow cold.

That car we bought, that house we built,

Some how are out of style.

We realize so abrupt one day,

We’ve had them quiet a while.

There will come an end of time one day,

When the Eternal One shall appear.

He’ll comfort every troubled heart,

He’ll wipe away each tear.

He’ll make an end to ” The Sorrows of Time “,

And start the eternal day!

We’ll live forever without regrets,

Joyful in His presence for aye.

Gene Breed

HAUNTING PHANTOM

When the Haunting Phantom of  ” might have been ”

Looms sovereign o’re your soul,

And has stolen your life with promises,

Under which you yielded control;

And your dreams were soft chains of delight,

In which you were willingly bound;

And the ring of hope was placed in your nose.

By which he led you around;

And you’ve looked at life without seeing it -

You only acted out your part,

The sad day of reality will force it’s way,

Into your aching heart.

You’ll grasp at dreams like whisps of smoke,

Which will destruct upon your glance;

And sadness will fully engulf your life,

As Reality says, ” No new chance!”.

You’ll hardly have care or strength to try

To sort out reality from dream,

The teddy bears, and special cares,

From cold, impersonal life schemes.

Reality, in which you dwelt all the while,

Knows his patience has won him his prize,

Forces upon you the cold hard fact,

That all dreams are, are lies !

So you try to stop that caravan,

That on-coming, dreaming troupe,

And warn them of all that you’ve learned

In hopes they’ll not follow suite;

But their worship of dreams, and plannings, and schemes

Have engulfed them in it’s soft mist.

And you see very well that you cannot tell

Of the beast which they give a fond kiss.

And somehow you confess as you watch them go by,

That ’tis better to have your cold heart,

Than to wander around in the suit of a clown

And only act out a part !

Gene Breed

Feb. 13, 1981