I look at the painting in my room
It hung quietly as ever
A mirror I took in hand
A comparison I made with the painting
Time had not been fair judge
The demands of life have taken toll on me
I played back the tape of my life
I became delighted as i watched my former self
Quietly I walked out of my room
I gasped for breath as I dared my former activities
Questions flew from within me
What is life all about?
Why is humanity ill with self?
Why has wrinkles taken over my face?
Why has my leg refused to obey my mind?
Why is my voice croaking like an hungry toad?
Why am I in such a speed?
One answer came to mind
The world is hurrying to the grave.
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