© MMXX A.N.E.
Life is, oh – a cruel adventure –
It may be bliss, it can be rapture…
Or none of that — a copycat?
To find a place, to correctly sort oneself,
And find a box you’re fully fitting in —
Alas, so many coffins in that shelf,
First the air’s too thick to breathe, then suddenly it’s turning thin.
We do not know if we are real,
Or anyone else, and all the things –
So, is it possible to break the seal?
To accept the fate misfortune brings?
What IS that feeling, what do YOU mean?
Those tongues are useful like an orange clockwork,
One cannot comprehend what others’ve seen —
And on each end of the landline sits a puzzled jerk…
Then, of course, one needs to get rich,
But at what cost, how and when and why?
Sounds like the dogma of a bitch:
For you should be cunning, also sly…
Our purpose here is not yet clear,
And that alone’s a source of fear…
We should be good, useful – there’s happiness to pursue —
Yet, for some that’s way too big a shoe…
There’s bad luck and, hey, good health,
That strike from darkness in surprising stealth!
All those empty moments passing by…
For us to affect them with a meaning and joy,
So we make, build, create and deploy…
And then, often times without a warning, we die.
And once we won, the stomach’s full –
Though all we achieve is one last breath –
We’re looking elsewhere for a lull,
Which will be also taken by death…
All those riddles, mysteries and questions of plenty:
Will, like death, forever remain void and empty…
Oh life is such a heavy yoke,
It’s but a cynical, sinister joke!