Little interests come and go as fleeting as a Sunday,
time spent polishing stones when no one really cares.
A lifetime of measuring time, too little or too much
like a drug dependency that’s never quite right.
Too much and we panic, turn psychotic, too little and
our shelves get littered with knick-knacks.
 
In between we're in lines, create lists and  other “to-do’s”
while standing in said lines. The herding effect makes us
feel small and unimportant like 1 of a 1000 in 5 box cars
of gypsies and Jews taken east on parallel rails.
 
When the present fades away our todays will be haunted
by yesterdays longings too late, and in the end
the darkness will be upon us  darker than night,
darker than black.