Welcome to Poetry.com
Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.
Life is so short,(0.00 / 0 votes)
It's fragile in so many ways,
One second you could be enjoying time with friends and family,
And the next you are lying on a hospital bed flat-lined.
We all know the pain of losing one close,
But we refuse to believe that it could happen to us.
But the truth is that it can and will,
We don't know how or when it will happen,
But the truth behind the matter is that everyone of us will die.
It terrifies every heart to die,
We can't comprehend it,
And there is no way to stop it.
But there is still hope for us today,
As we live each day as if it were our last.
Knowing we may die today,
And that we may never see tomorrow's sunrise.
So we make the most every moment,
Living to glorify God and all He is,
And working to make Him known through our actions.
Making sure that each day we show His love to the people around us,
And working to help mend the hearts of those broken around us.
For it won't be long before we are taking our last breaths.
And on that day we will hope to see a legacy of love and compassion in our past,
So that we are able to look to God and know that He is smiling down on his child.
Because there is no greater satisfaction in heaven or on earth,
Than knowing that you have gained the approval of the Father.
So work to show this love to every soul you come in contact with,
Because there isn't much time left,
Each minute wasted is a minute you will never get back,
Time is a slave to no one and will not wait for you to make a decision.
You must get up and do it,
Show love to someone who can't repay you,
Extend compassion to your enemies,
Make a difference in the world today.
Because your life is slowly crumbling away,
And there is nothing you can do to stop it.
Just make sure that at the end of the road,
You have left a life worthy of the name you proclaimed.
Discuss this Christian Wiebe poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)