Archive 04/24/09 - (1)

   

Mad Dash

                                                                  

Why is it that, at this stage of the end game

(I'm in an evanescent holding pattern, I fully realize),

The days rushing toward me, at breath-stealing speed,

Fly past, with blinding, dizzying, disorienting velocity,

Leaving me in this perfect vacuum of astonished disbelief?

 

Obama's inauguration; Bush's invasion of Iraq; 9/11;

Columbine High; Timothy McVeigh; the first Gulf War;

The Iran hostage crisis; gas lines; Nixon's resignation;

RFK; MLK; JFK; Vietnam; Montgomery/Selma/Emmett Till;

WWII; Pearl Harbor; April 17, 1941...

 

All of it — the events, the dates, history's highs and lows,

Its ins and outs, fits and starts, finishes —

Here and gone, in the blink of time's inner eye,

The flickering flame of the candlestick maker's diminishing taper,

And all I can do is bear witness to the years' mad dash.

 

Fine. I submit grudgingly, confused, stymied,

Realizing this is the price I pay, for being mortality's fall guy,

My plight, my curse, for playing the innocent bystander,

As life whisks me, all too swiftly, toward oblivion's precipice.

Slowing down the process is an impossible option, isn't it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

                

04/24/09 - (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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