In hunger and pain,
from his cradle
to hallowed grave,
man walks in the shadow
of certain death.
He strives through daylight
and darkness of night,
through the rain and cold;
struggling in vain,
as his youth grows old.
And man, in the shadow
of quill and ink, in dread;
no home to call his own
and no place to lay his head,
writes poetry instead.
He writes of hunger and pain
and dreams of an end to suffering,
distorted reality within his brain;
envisioning a better life,
with an end to sorrow and strife.
In daylight or darkness of night,
through the rain and cold;
woe is his lot, the poor man's plight,
his wretched human condition,
with no relief in sight.
And when all is done and said,
as man struggles in the shadow
of the uphill stone, he is led
to his final abode - his earthly bed;
ending his hunger and pain.
Adding your comment:
's Such is life and all one can do is do their best to learn a little and pass what we learn on to those whose life is just beginning. 
I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. Where ever did you get this wonderful award you've presented me with? And how did you manage to get it in this little comment box? Thank you so much, you made my day - again!! 
You ARE an angel!! 
I am humbly honored!! 
Thanks again, and take care!! 
