The Apprentice Poem by The silent Poet

The thing about life is that it's far from predictable,
Such feelings reciprocal, our dealings minimal,
Proceedings are leading us to become physical,
Our timing immaculate, yet far from judicial,
Life has a way of making us laugh,
She dances she smiles, her spell has been cast,
A tornado of passion is swiftly extinguished,
Reality looms our love is diminished,
Time has a way of making us cry,
She's perfect we say, and yet she must die,
But,
Must we succumb to the standards of men?
Who try and they fail again and again,
Their rules are of benefit to none but their own,
The job, the car, the woman, the home,
A familar greeting with death at the door,
Is a similar meeting that one can't ignore,
Therefore,
For foundations of life one must adjust their base,
From material objects to that of faith?