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Feb 2018 · 166
The Hourglass
Roger Vila Feb 2018
We jostle for the space,
The narrow space
As we grow in hope to follow
Our falling forefathers.

Neck and neck we strive
To make our mark each day,
Widening the path we all must travel.

Then finally the void.
Our time is up and we are lost,
Beached upon the blanched bones,
Dust of our ancestors.

But behind us our children
And theirs,
Race for the gap.
Full of life - so full of life!
Feb 2018 · 155
Age
Roger Vila Feb 2018
Age
A gossamer trace on the smooth brow of youth
Marks you down as mortal
When barely at full strength.
That first bittersweet pang – it’s just the start!
As time’s spider reels you in
Binding ever tighter, age upon age.

Now deep fissures on my face
Show to all the very trace
Of times now past, a life once lived.
Ten thousand days and more
Have etched ever deeper those slight lines
And ploughed my brow with furrows
That now are deep as canyons
Eroded by ten thousand suns.

Found a wife, found my life,
Raised two children, gone in a trice.
Greyed my hair and grizzled beard
Turtled eyes look back in tears
Of self-pity? If so, why?
Give thanks I'm old before I die.
Feb 2018 · 128
Accelerando
Roger Vila Feb 2018
We were all by nature formed
But nature moves with glacial tread
Yawning aeons pass unmourned
Alive a day, a long time dead.
The fly that's in the amber buzzing
The same as every fly that's been.

Our speech we learned at mothers knee
By firelight heard the old folks tales
Misremembering monkeys see
Common sense and myth engrailed.

To read and write was the next phase
Learning all there was to know
History and our songs of praise
Placed in context high and low.

Then to science we were called
Prisms rainbowed onto walls
Scalpels sharp the quick to cut
Forces to our wish construct.

Now in each and every hand
All that's known is open wide
On giant shoulders do we stand
Speak in tongues - no answers hide.
Outer space or fermion dish
Take a selfie, make a wish.

Rejoice now and grandly grow
Proudly accelerando.
Great from cultural evolution
Creatures of our own creation.

— The End —