Restless in a constant way,
occupied with boundless thoughts,
about what was,
about what might be,
and about time --
where did it go,
what does it do?
Time has passed,
or was squandered?
Does it hang above all,
beyond reach and comprehension,
fated to crush us into submission?
If this is true,
then inevitablity will scar me,
branding my flesh:
doomed.
Pathetic resignation leads to the pit;
just you and me,
the dark lord,
and your saviour
- with no way out,
unsure of why we are there.
Yet the admonishments continue:
"Time is at an end;
accept eternity or be banished."
With refusal comes tribulation;
adversity presses against me,
against you,
against you and I?
You and I,
together in the world of the inane,
forever confronted by the absurd.
Soon, we realize that time has no destiny,
for there is no abysmal fate;
because it is nothing
without presence,
here and now.
Look up and listen,
what do you hear?
Silence, boundless silence.
No sacred words,
or edicts from on high,
still just you and I.
Between you and I --
silence mustn't rule.
Restless in a boundless way,
with constant thoughts,
about what was,
about what will be,
and about now --
what shall be done,
in response to here and now,
in response to an incommensurable present?
