Life Unlived

Had I but more time to live this life,
And more time to sing your praise.
Grow I closer to the morticians knife,
With my impending end of days.
I struggle to write and for my mind to be free,
Grasping at words I soon forget,
For instead I struggle with mortality,
My lifestyle Death's aide and abet.
Far too often I dwell in a macabre den,
Pierced by fears of the strange unknown,
My minds own makings of a cold prison,
These thoughts force man to live alone.
The brief sands of my time flowing fast away,
As I sit and cower in a frightened haze,
Passing swiftly each God given day,
Plotting escape from death's steely gaze.
Would I but take my eyes off his,
And live a life happy and free,
Then I'd dwell not on his business,
And need not live for eternity.
For a life can be big even if short in size,
After all, is brevity not the soul of wit?
So instead of fearing my demise,
I'll enjoy life by actually living it.