The Schedule
The modern world has become regimented;
every bus and train must run on time;
tho time often makes many discontented;
the schedule is an emperor, all divine.
Every step, that we take, must be in align;
for most have a schedule, to fulfill;
and the master of every schedule is time;
we’re the ants; building their anthill.
Although there are many, who dare to protest;
believing their time is their own;
may I most humbly point out and suggest;
lifetimes are only ours, on loan.
From the day, we’re born, the schedule is king;
we each have a time that we’re fed;
and after each feeding; a time for burping;
and, at nighttime; the time for bed.
As we grow older, our schedule expands;
tho subtle; it’s under the surface;
all must march to our inner demands;
every life has its own purpose.
Our schedule dictates most all that we do;
all our life we are governed by time;
what works for me; won’t work for you;
each one of us is unique and devine.
All seasons of life are scheduled to end;
tho none know the place; nor time;
when all schedules, are cast to the wind;
for, schedules were never divine.
Monty 7/15/24. # 2,221