Morning Reflection
11/10 2021
Perhaps I could say that I've been weak,
That I've looked at the world tongue-in-cheek
And given up, whatever that might've looked like.
Gone on doing nothing, specially no effort to write.
Another day is dawning, and here I sit
In the dark lit by a small lamp and my wit
That's emptying from my ear as we speak
Spilling out of me exactly like last week;
All alone with all of these memories...
Because that is all they are: lost centuries.
The tea pot sputters and complains of old age
It walks slower, even though everyone will rage
As it fails to do what it was purchased to do
Is the tea pot wise for knowing the dark from the blue,
Or am I thinking about this too much?
I remember a time when I knew things as such
Without needing some foreign words to say so:
All alone with all of these memories...
Because that is all they are: lost centuries.
As I sit reading things I will never use,
Spending money that I will never lose,
Drinking blues that no matter what, I won't choose,
Or truth, whose promise is simply to sooth,
As I sit here doing all of those things,
Does it even matter if I refuse to begin?
In the off chance that I find it, will I recognize it,
Or will I stare at it, turn it, and declare it a counterfeit,
Just to let them live a little bit longer, all of those impressions
The fog that blows over the frosty night in a special fashion.
All alone with all of these memories...
Because that is all they are: lost centuries.