As Consistent As the Season

Her existence was reduced to a composite Of scenes: As consistent as the seasons, As emperical as the earth she trod on; As irremediable as memory, And the obliviation of memory, Slowly, in the mind. As to the pattern of droll days and night dreams- There was no help for it, No terminus- Although oftimes she would beseech God and God, and God And oh my God, but nothing changed Just winter to spring and fertility and rampant dryness in the clime Where nothing seemed to live any better than she did. She would find herself smirking the dichotomy between her beliefs And the reality that confronted her, For, in truth, her beliefs availed nothing and nothing And nothing was propogated by Lifelessness in dead air, And she was incredulous that this were so. Was the universe then but a brute and senseless phantasm? An ambience seduced and won by Caliban Leaving all men adrift, Linked incongrously to their glistening sphere Such that mortal existence was, but a composite of scenes, Cyclical, senseless, horrific; As consistent as the seasons; As emperical as the earth men trod on, As irremediable as memory; And the obliviation of memory, Slowly, slowly, slowly in the mind.