Hurtling toward eternity

Each tick of the clock takes us closer to the end of our all too short stay on earth.

Tick...tick...tick...

Each breath we take is one breath less in the final tally.

In...out...in...out...

Each beat of the heart, the muscle grows weaker.

bum-bump...bum-bump...bum-bump.

The minute I was born I started to die.

Today looks like yesterday. I can't tell that the end is coming, but I know that it will...eventually.

My life is a sentence in an encyclopedia set -- no, a punctuation mark! I'm one song on the radio. Begins. Ends. Done.

"Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity."

Am I making the most of my time? Have I lived in vain? What have I left -- will I leave -- on the table?