Thursday, October 09, 2014

Hot buttered toast.

On this old world man sits and wonders
Why this is how things have to be.
In the new world man sits and wonders
Why this is how things now are.
In the only world man sits and wonders
But does not know what he wonders.
Life is bizarre, and the birds are calling
In the night hours, whilst
The fish jump and wave lazily
At the passing angler.
The bell used to ring
But now it tolls not for you.
If you walk down the steps
There are ghosts that will keep you company.
And small children laugh to see you cry.
Tomorrow there may be a reason why
Yesterday has gone but had no reason
Today is only the question that
Cannot be answered.
The ticking clock measures the minutes
And the hours as they pass relentless
And without pause.
The lines on the pavement measure
The distance you have walked
And mark out how far you
Have still to travel.
Do you travel?
Do we travel?
Are we on the old world, or
On the new, or are we simply
Passengers on this only world as it
Spins slowly through space
So fast that we feel the wind in our hair?
But the cat curls up and basks
In the moonlight, and the dog
Sometimes barks and sometimes
Does not.

© 2ndwitch, 09/10/14

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