When my days ahead were an unwritten book,
I put my pen to page, and wrote the words
‘Seize the day’!
And seize them well I did…
I lived and played, and worked and slaved,
For nothing more than to seize the day.
And so it is written, on page after page…
By my hand,
Those three words lay scrawled.
Cascading from page to page.
From day to day.
Written in my Book of Life, ‘seize the day’.
I thought not of health or love,
And nowhere, In my Book,
Are those words found.
I sadly flip through those pages now.
Wondering how.
How I failed to see a greater need.
I built my wealth, and dodged ill fate
But never saw the pages turn.
For love was lost in trade for lust,
My heart and future sold for dust,
For Nothing more than to seize the day.
I sought the pleasures of the flesh
And cast aside a woman’s love
For sordid moments of illicit sex,
I traded my soul for to seize the day.
But in my Book, there are pages yet that remain unturned.
And in my pen, ink remains to write of other days.
And I have sworn to her the words upon them will not be
Seize the day.
