Rushing to the Reaper
A reminder to slow down.
We move too fast
In everything we do
Planning every minute
To ensure all gets done
As if death is at our door
You see it on the road
People weaving into harm
As if the reaper
Is racing up behind
When he is waiting up ahead
We do it to our children
Pushing all they do
As if doom has them on the list
Planning to take them
Unless they speak at two
All our actions center
On what tomorrow holds
And how to get there fast
Skipping over days like leaves
Crushed beneath a funeral march
The quicker that we move
The faster we reach our maker
Who may ask us to our face
Why we never slowed our pace
And listened to the wind
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