When the music stops
—what do you hear?
Do you hear the sound
of laughter
—the ring of triumph
in the air?
Or do you give ear
to the silence that
follows
after the joy is done
Do you listen to the
sadness creeping once
success has passed?
When the sights pass
—what do you see?
Do you see the beauty
of the world you're in
—the flourish of nature
sweeping the plain?
Or do you spend time
ogling at the dead
lying forgotten on the streets
Do you gape at the grime
lining the walls
unscrubbed?
When the charity ceases
—what do you feel?
Do you feel the touch
of angels
—the softness of life
through your skin?
Or do you ponder
the end of all things
eventually creeping in
Do you feel the chance
to enjoy the time given
ebbing, coming to dim?