The Viewer

Seaside thoughts at sunset, volume eight million.

The moments that he has to rest
Are growing ever fewer –
The sunset wasn’t made for him,
He merely is the viewer

His life is made of circumstance
And happiness, and fears;
He’s gifted with no crystal ball,
He’s not among the seers –

He walks to wear his body out
So it can join his mind;
He stands and views the sunset
Leaving all of that behind

But soon he’ll plod his way back home,
To carry out the trash;
The viewer knows that present bliss
Is over in
A flash

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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