Saturday, March 28, 2015

The Play—II

The Play—II 

The planet spins – and days and weeks
And months and years go by.
The play proceeds. We mouth our lines
And rarely question why.
We each could speak of our defeats,
Of all the battles lost –
Of how we struggled hard and how
We paid the bitter cost…

Or should we speak of victories,
However few the count?
For that might then fulfill our need
For cheer, in small amount…


But all we lost has long been gone
And never will return –
And  what we gained was either lost
Or will be, in its turn…

So let’s not talk of our defeats
Or victories in the past –
Our lives are acts that soon will end,
For time is flowing fast.

So let us each be silent then
And sip the present’s wine –
For be it sweet or bitter, it
Is pressed from grapes divine.
We build our lives and watch them wrecked.
And yet, we still can smile.
There’s time, within the play, to sit
And chat for just a while.
So every breath is precious, be
It drawn with joy or sorrow.
We each were born but yesterday
And will be gone tomorrow.


And though our battles might be lost
Or won and then reversed,
The others, still unborn, will come
And tread the paths traversed.

So as we view the present scene,
Reflecting on the past,
The future comes.  This act that ends –
It will not be the last.

But when that final curtain falls
And life on Earth has ended –
Will aught of consequence remain,
As men have long pretended?
2015 March 23rd, Mon
(first & last three stanzas added March 28th, Sat.)
Brooklyn, New York

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