Empty moments
Caught up in the contemplation
Of the wicked game
Searching for meaning in the chaos
I will not fight for purpose
But I will seek out
The often unobtainable
The game played in bitter rivalry
We grope for a chance
Not a promise
Or a certainty
But a chance
To for an instant
Or an hour
To be happy
We beg, borrow, or steal
To experience it
For an instant
Even for an instant
A chance at love
The ultimate gift
In the unforgiving world
What a cruel joke
What a vile scheme
To give us the idea of happiness
Only to either steal it away
Or make us wait a lifetime
In pain to experience it
Only for a moment or
A day
Then, to snatch it away again
Leaving us lamenting
And
Alone

An Original Poem By H.R. Beebe