You've got a moment, use it, before it slips away
yet the indecision, the indirection
What is it that I must do...
Asks the young to the old
to make my life full, wonderful, to live?
Tumbling frailness, aching emptiness, a hollow void of direction echo from the chambers of the fading heart, beating frantically, snatching terribly at the last rays of the sun on the horizon. The ship is sailing away, taking along the fits of starts and stops which have lain broken on the shore.
As the stick tossed in the stream travels swiftly to the ocean, or moored along the bank, a fascinating demonstration of time passing. Can we freeze time to grasp hold of life again?
the wonder of it is
that we used to think that adults knew the answers
As I stand here watching it all, I wonder
can I plunge my hand into the stream of knowledge, and pull out a direction, the script of understanding?
or is it a fathomless void, from which no one can return?