When inspiration leaves
and an expiration expresses
more than any words I know.
When expectation ceases
and a feeling of inevitability
fills my heart with sadness.
When optimism goes
and thoughts of doomed ventures
fill my mind with dark intent.
When desires for achievements
are replaced with thoughts
of preserving what I have.
When thoughts of going
are repressed by heaviness
of body wanting rest.
When dreams of conquests
meet the dust of failure
that comes running from the past.
When risk becomes a fearsome
unknown factor and no longer
makes my blood race fast.
T’will be time for me to meet
a wooden box and breathe my last.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-27/
