Jun 2020
Black robe, distant looming
A nod through senescence
Time is fleeting, passing
All, but of the essence
Thoughts made in retrospect
Of his dreams, velveteen
Maiden in his prospect,
Naïve, only nineteen
Callous thoughts in wiring
Pallid, his mind dare say,
"Future, what's in passing?"
Whispers, a foggy way
Creature, borne through figment
Like disease, latching free
Moments, striking, salient
Sordid thoughts, though dreary
Static, of radio noise
Moonlit drops of the dawn
Wavering, cracking voice
My mind, a soldier's pawn
A nod through senescence
Time is fleeting, passing
All, but of the essence
Thoughts made in retrospect
Of his dreams, velveteen
Maiden in his prospect,
Naïve, only nineteen
Callous thoughts in wiring
Pallid, his mind dare say,
"Future, what's in passing?"
Whispers, a foggy way
Creature, borne through figment
Like disease, latching free
Moments, striking, salient
Sordid thoughts, though dreary
Static, of radio noise
Moonlit drops of the dawn
Wavering, cracking voice
My mind, a soldier's pawn
I always feel the cynicism brought upon by the eventual grasp of death. Death, for me, is a looming thought that will eventually win me through a war it wages with everyone. Sometimes, I want to relive the time back then and correct the awful things that I have done, but I can only think in retrospect, and there is nothing I can do. I can only hope for the best and move on.
