How best can we contend with time –

Its stark reality –

Knowing life is not sublime

In its totality.

How well can we do what we must

While in the process, stumble:

We can but do with faith and trust

That tell us to be humble.

To dwell on nothing but the doom

Of life’s unending troubles

Is to concede to pain and gloom

That may soon end in bubbles.

We are but creatures of complaint

That may yet be unhelpful –

Little  troubles that we paint

With colors dull and dreadful.

Life was never meant to be,

Untroubled and unhampered;

Comforts that we feel and see

Can leave us sorely pampered.

There never can be any doubt,

Sometimes we lose our bearing,

Think not what life is all about,

And know not how we’re faring.

We may all feel the trifling twinge

Of troubles we can’t hide,

As long as these do not infringe

On life’s bright, sunny side.