Stretched beyond the rainy windows.
As within a deep sigh grows.
It is time
The stage for the performance is set.
Mood and music have now met.
A slow tune
Throws open a torrent of memories galore.
That time doesn’t heal, but grows more.
Made, pass by in an uninterrupted sequence.
Too march by with embarrassing frequence
Was, and had no doubt always been, mine.
Hence the gall,
To blame life or fate was never in line.
To seek the centre of meaning outside
And things got
Ugly, for no fault of the other side.
It was entirely
A pathetic attempt to project, on my behalf
What I needed direly
On any entity that wasn’t me, but now I laugh.
It is a truth that no one can run away from,
At some point in the course of one’s life,
One has to face the spectre of existential angst,
One must come to terms with life,
One must seek and find meaning.