Life-Time Passes By
Life-Time Passes By
What went wrong, one has asked,
This parade doesn't hold one flaw.
Did as the elders had requested--
Where are they now, the end anon?
Voices came through in fatal sleep,
Speaking in some neo-past-tense.
Their need to survive in a being
That deep within shared their dream.
What of this unfulfilled dream--
One that could save many souls:
They told that subconscious held it;
Pondering it will only destroy it.
Walked this earth in an oblivion
To the dream staying in this head.
Will there be, somewhere, a key;
Who is awaiting this reluctant nomad?
Eyes haven't selected this familiar....
When found, the mind will explain all.
No one of this nature has appeared;
Continued on was this reluctant nomad.
In a place where cold is warming,
Where sleep is a hole in the wall,
Sits the holder of an unfulfilled dream
Who, now, becomes the one seeked....
More thoughts make their way through.
Each here to pay a last respect....
Childhood, Oh god, sweet childhood
Was enchanting compared to here:
Every taunt now a funny song--
Every scar now a cherished story--
Embarrassments now vainglories--
Each hurt, then, said that life existed;
Loves left that were unrequitted....
Lips left that were untouched....
Lusts left that were unquenched....
Lies left that were unexplained....
To you, dear Lee, love existed;
And for you, dear Annie, it did, too.
The only two to trouble this heart--
You shall never know how much!
Father, words were unutterable
When came time to express love:
You did the best you knew how
After that day had come and gone....
Mother, why was it so, so brief
The time this world kept you here?
Never knew you in the flesh
But only through flashbacks and tears.
In a place where tomorrow is timid,
Where today's the first to Nevermore
Sits the keeper of an unfulfilled dream
Who, now, believes life is precious....
This being contemplated elimination--
Where was the end of the journey?
Walking with subconscious beliefs,
Never allowed to contemplate them;
Is there a hell more sacrosanct?
Is there a heaven less promising?
Left here to search for an unknown,
Its features trapped in some oblivion.
Before sleep would come to fruitation,
Employed were desperate insomniacs.
They listened to private ruminations--
No one could understand the language.
Hoped in these sleeps they would speak,
The voices who curse in strange random;
Silence sometimes filled in for dreams:
Still left unaware, today, of any meaning....
Face pressed against certain death.
A clock whispers the retreating time.
Life-time passes by.... don't cry....
This once-reluctant nomad has been found.
Return to Turning Ivory into Glass table of contents
Return to A Gathering of Fiends table of contents