The Grind

Prepare to take a leap of faith

Spread your wings wide, and soar

With your feet rooted firmly of course

Or Icarus’s fate will be yours!

Take a dive in the deepest sea

For a taste of the knowledge that was never yours

But beware of the cutthroat sharks within

They show no mercy to even the next of kin!

If it is treasure you seek, look far and wide

But there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

It is but an endless toil day after day

So, prepare, Sisyphus, prepare to decay!

You tell me the grind has been worthwhile

From poor church mouse to lord of the concrete jungle

You say you have led a life of decadence

Need I remind you, child, that it all now ends with a slow ride in a hearse?

You shan’t be forgotten, though

Your stories will be shared by those you left behind, like your heirloom

Why is it, though that when you linger through that last dying ember

They look around, and ask, “How much longer?”