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12/19/11 - (2)
The Passing Years
Where do the years go, when they pass us by? Could it be that death calls them home, surreptitiously, Hoping to analyze our ability to endure, survive life's travails, By scrutinizing our most recently flown histories, Assessing the puissance and weakness of our beating hearts?
Or is it possible that God Himself gathers them in, So that they don't get lost, scattered throughout the cosmos, Rendered mercilessly irretrievable When our earthly souls reach eternity's purlieus, Needing to account for the genealogy of their corporeal spirits?
If only we could know, have the remotest of prophetic clues, Our lives might be infinitely more enlightened, influential, Our hearts more inspired, satisfied. But as of this moment, all any of us can say about the years Is that they weave us around their entrancing days,
Before abandoning us, one by one by one by one, Forcing us to face growing-older's insufferable ukases, alone, Until we arrive, all too finally, At that line in time's sands life's hourglass circumscribes, The years having forgotten us, and we die without knowing why.
12/19/11 - (2)
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