Too Late

I lie awake all night long
Thinking about living
So many things I want to do
I cannot even describe them

People always tell me
That everything has its time
Do events have a time of their own?
For who dares to say
When the moment comes
And what must be done?

Life is all too short
I plan dreams, then shelve them away
One voice whispers that it is too soon
While another screams
You're too old for that

I asked myself
When will it stop being too soon?
And I found the answer
When it is too late

Time will pass, and we will not have lived
Even a third of what we desired
And then we will know
That it is no longer too soon
But rather, too late

Life is made of moments
Plans are meant to be lived
Dreams are dreamt to be felt
We are passing through a span of time
Sharing our brief evolution
Until each of us moves on
To the other dimension

Life is made of moments
Plans are meant to be lived
Dreams are dreamt to be felt
We are passing through a span of time
Sharing our brief evolution
Until each of us moves on
To the other dimension