A life is short
I dare not waste it
In idle chatter
No purpose there
Nothing won, nor gained
I will have but emptiness
That's what remains
Solitude's reward
Words of folly
Those of hate
Such feelings about
I have no time
For the sands pour forth
Incessantly shimmering
And I must trudge on
To create some work
That lives on
For benvolent giving
No name, no fame
Just enduring
There is no time
For bitterness
Lest a day come
Mumbling of regret
Victimized by life
And a mediocrity
A prisoner self-made
In a prison found
Always bantoring
Always crowing
And still no place to go