Halfway through, the mid-life crisis begins

As if they have been just reminded that death always wins

Why this sudden change of skins

This strange awakening, like needles and pins

Yet what about those

Who think each moment 

Whether they have thought it through

Whatever it is that they ought to do

Whether existence is  just a state of mind

Or something to be enjoyed, not a grind, until its too late

Such are useless fellows in today's society

Incapable of work, incapable of play

Unable to determine where their hand lay

This book is halfway through too

Its time for an awakening too

To find something real, not just clues

Or else never mind, its all just 42