So fleeting is this thing called life, we journey toward its end,
experiencing pieces of a puzzle we don't truly comprehend.
The hues of our emotion paint a picture of our past,
as we hurtle toward a destiny that is not meant to last.
Youth a canvas all in white, not knowing what awaits,
feel caresses of a brush that which we know as fate.
Love so very true in reds, that beat within our heart,
shadows black take form as hate, which tears the soul apart.
Greens of joy and happiness, lush grass beyond compare,
sadness, shrouded depths of blue, the waters of despair.
Yellow screams of agony and pain which we endure.
Guilt and shame are shades of grey, a torrential downpour.
Earthy brown desires are that for which we lust,
the loss of which comes with age, like chrome begins to rust.
The image changing constantly as time plods slowly on,
taking shape in many forms, as the twilight replaces dawn.
We look into a mirror for the answers which we seek,
but we find no consolation as our eyes grow dim and weak.
The final touches on a painting created with much love,
as we realize that the destination is the gallery above...
About this poem
Recently, a friend of mine died very suddenly and unexpectedly. He was a talented photographer and a fantastic human being who devoted much of his time to the happiness of others. I had seen him a few weeks before, and he was so vibrant and alive. The death hit me pretty hard, and for the first time in over 20 years I felt compelled to write and the words just flowed. This poem is not so much about death, more so it's about the fleeting nature of life and the uncertainty we feel as we navigate it. more »
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Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"A Fleeting Image" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 16 Aug. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/119346/a-fleeting-image>.