Existencia Pathetique

It only takes a second to open one's eyes,
Yet man sometimes lives an entire lifetime of lies.
A false existence, a world of his creation;
Where everything seems real but all are illusions.

Whatever can be lofty, whatever is grand.
But in the end nothing can be worth more than sand.
Anyone and everyone flying to the stars;
The weary hands of time have traveled long and far.

This concrete labyrinth we live in is endless.
With each breath we move on, exhausted and listless.
The horizon changes with each passing minute;
We tumble here and there, doing what seems right and fit.

Endless is it not, but is this the truth we seek?
Of what use is greatness if the spirit is weak.
Alas! We are merely flotsam riding the wave,
Drifting in confusion that only death can save.