They that do and wait for us,
Who toil just to stay behind
We admire and make a fuss
And hope that they will be quite kind.
We who stumble on as mates
And slip and fall and hurt
Make our way to the gates
With shoutings long and curt.
Him that sits above our heads
And watches from the sky
We wonder when He makes our beds
And cannot ask Him why.
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Indeed, we do shout and push and advertise ourselves as being SO full of effort and ideas, when the ones who actually already completed the REALLY HARD STUFF wait behind. Guess what? I’ll bet they already KNOW their beds are made for them! Thank you for this most wonderfully concise description of ourselves in the overall scheme of things!
Perhaps they do. Thank you for taking the time to say something. Cheers.
This is good, as usual. Very thought-provoking–I’ll mull it over again later.
You are kind.
Him that sits above our heads
And watches from the sky…
love your words, emotion wrapped in each…
Emotion is such a big part of poetry, isn’t it? Thank you for saying this.