August 17, 2011

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  TheThief

   

  You know… there are days in the winter of our lives

  Piling on now and symptomatic of a weakening will

  When those accidental atoms which make for a material existence

  Convert within a wrinkled skin-inflated body

  To an ocean of silent degradation of those circuitous spores

  Those aquatic amoebas floating within us                                                                

  That once long ago…spermed and spiralled themselves into an “us”

   

  Within the turbulent caverns of our minds

  Our drained brains still manage a spark of tumultuous thought

  Of how to make it possible to greet another dawn

  Of how not to submit…of how not to surrender…

  Of how to cheat that stealthy thief of a few more ticks

  That miserable bastard… that mandatory time-keeper

  The enemy of us all

  But there is no hope… one might salvage a few more tired tries

  In the end though… the thief always wins

   

  Still the cat sleeps… She could not care less

  She has triumphed over that sly dilatory sneak

  Because she is not afraid of him

  Her courage sparkles… reaches out to us with gentle loving purrs

  She is our dominie… the guide to our survival

  Her eyes transmit her faith in us… she needs us

  Like nuns and monks need their sanctuaries

  She eats and drinks and stays warm in our bed

   

  And when you come right down to it

  Isn’t that all that matters?

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  • 6:38 pm
  • 5 Comments