Being is futile,
Can’t anyone see
That all is lost?
Lifeless and colorless,
We are all bound
To one inescapable fate.
We are all confined
To voracious obsessions,
Compulsions, possessions,
And the constant need
To have more.
This ignorance is shameful,
There’s no getting out of this,
The swimming of seas
That pull you below and
Drown you senseless;
The grinding of chains
And gears turn round and round
Never slower, never faster.
There’s no getting out of this,
Lifeless and colorless,
We are all bound
To the grinding of chains
And gears that go round.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
Being is futile,
Can’t anyone see
That all is lost?
Lifeless and colorless,
We are all bound
To one inescapable fate.
We are all confined
To voracious obsessions,
Compulsions, possessions,
And the constant need
To have more.
This ignorance is shameful,
There’s no getting out of this,
The swimming of seas
That pull you below and
Drown you senseless;
The grinding of chains
And gears turn round and round
Never slower, never faster.
There’s no getting out of this,
Lifeless and colorless,
We are all bound
To the grinding of chains
And gears that go round.
This is probably the oldest poem I have posted. I wrote it years ago. It still rings true to me, though.