Vanity

What is life,is it birth or death
Is it the mere flimsy facade of breathing
Or the never forgone act of procreatiing

Trully it is a mystery

Alas i to lie will i not
For it is as thou all effort is nought.
Morning man shall wake.
Night shall he sleep.
Vain is all that he keeps as treasure

All is vain

Alas i yes i do forgo my instinct and travel
The travelers nightmare still remains
Shall we arrive?are we there?
Did we travail?glad that we arrived and not our remains

For the roads is like a well dug grave.
waiting and praying for its owner.
Happily accepting the simmering and crashing tug
Even if in one basket it needs one hug.

What a tragedy
the road is a friendly foe
someone all motorist owe
my debt remains unpaid
untill the day am laid
accidents

alas all is vain !