Another year has passed my friend,
Another one gone by.
I feel like my old grandpa again,
Talking of how time flies.
But I’m young, far too young to be
Brooding on my own.
But I can’t help but think, of how it slipped,
Right through the crack of the present.
That razor thin disc that moves ceaselessly over the reel of time.
And I’m all alone once more, after all that hustle and bustle. So many smiles and laughs, and faces and scenes, and yet it feels as if nothing has moved. I too have spun around the sun, and I am back. A circular pattern I suppose it is, around and around, with meteors and stardust along the way. But ever and always one returns to oneself.
And I look down at the body before me, slowly ageing away; some new hairs, some new wears, it continues its trek towards the end. And what a strange process that is; can it not know stillness? If I sit here, it will continue beneath me, slowly decaying.
Another year my friend, and I’ve got the pictures to prove it. There I am dancing there, here I am laughing here. And what is it that rings hollow? What fabulous memories, what fabulous times, and yet why can they not nourish me? I squeeze and press the years of my life and only a slow drip of apathy filters out.
The scene has passed,
This life won’t last,
I must find some way out.
This damned soup of contingency,
This swirling blob of apathy,
This nightmare death-in-life is she.
And all this forced on me to bear,
On my skinny boyish shoulders,
Forced into the void to stare,
To fish out some divine orders.
A report back from the front:
A silly stage of mice and men,
All dancing in a line.
They blink and fight and love and then,
They die amidst much crying.
Much sound to be sure,
Much fury too, my dear.
But all in all a worthless stint,
A flash of light, a piece of lint.
Sometimes I wish to put an end this strife,
Sometimes I long for a whetted knife,
Sometimes all I want is a pretty wife.
Oh what a ramble it has been,
A ceaseless soup of silly words.
Make me end where I begun,
Oh restless one, where is your sun?
Please take me back to that moment,
When my flash first came to be.
And ever so gently stamp it out,
That worthless life to be.