Leftover Rhymings, Last


As one nears the end of the Life Game,

one accepts Fate and Chance are not the same;

and encounters that ‘Midnight of the Soul’

of traffic never ceasing in numbers untold.

Should one remain sane as one becomes old,

reversal of life must Psyche behold;

and looking back along Existence’s line

sees Death doesn’t happen at just one time.

Then before Consciousness must take Its’ leave

all prior personae Self’s forced to grieve.

But all of that living once done through Mind,

if one is lucky can be left behind.

Each time Life is birthed it yearns for the good;

while too many, doomed, wither in ‘the Hood’.

Consider, if you will, the unnumbered all

never allowed to see beyond the wall.

And count the children born to misery,

fodder for societal usury. Read more…

Comments are closed.