Sunday Sonnet!

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When I of mortal treadmill take my leave,
A destiny no being can escape –
However much some would themselves deceive,
Or others, Fate’s arrival would reshape –
All what-has-beens form part of who I am,
Be they of scaling hills or sliding downs,
Even when level living seemed a sham,
Or future promise be replete with crowns;
For what has gone before or what shall be,
Much not unduly spiced with deep regret,
Rich blessings from above shall set me free,
And lessons learnt I never shall forget;
We grow with every modicum of breath,
From birth, through life, until embraced by death!

©Meanderings 2016

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