The Watch

Some walk in, others are carried,
Daily I watch them enter the church.
I watch as the ones who carry,
Come out first.

I watch those who carry become those who are carried,
Daily the treadmill rolls.
Each taking his place in this decrease of life,
Trading places as a daily goal.

Unfound by the seeker, the crowd rushes on,
With despair and grief they silently flow.
Six carry, one is carried,
Which one is next, who is to know?

For weeks, for months, for years, life rushes on,
But each takes his turn as death rushes by.
Silently, steadily, each gets his own,
Bringing grief and despair, and tears that are cried.