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Of Fatalism

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*Image of Pendulum by Pixabay.

Of Fatalism

'Tis past the eleventh hour,
As time ...,
Here in the bunker,
I walked away from the Atomic Clock whose pendulum terminated its sway,
Walked I, away from expressionless gazes of our hereafter,
Longings tethered to massive cement deterrents laden with steel rods that point every which way,
It encompasses us, hanging as fitting sheaths insulating our newly acquisitions -- swords of Damocles,
Each of us has someone whom we treasured still up there,
That would justify the emptiness I see,
They're benumbed by internal seething pain,
Tormented by their incapacities to help,
Haunted by incessant wailings,
And then, of course, the little ones,
Oh, my sweet Jesus!
What have I done, what have I done,
There were protection elements everywhere,
They were set up at every point,
Outside, beyond the perimeter,
Ubiquitously, near primary targets,
However, also, everywhere,
... was uncompromising resistance,
After the inevitable played out,
They, too, joined the vacant masses,
I guess that is how good old warriors just fade away,
A newly carped floor in the War Room where lies my rejected arguments,
it is under the dismissive course of action, 
and that's shoved neath disappointing occurrences involving hypothetical possibilities,
How do I overcome these unforgivable mistakes and missed opportunities?
[He sees two-armed guards at their post]
He mumbles, "Coward!
Well, Mr. Speech Writer, since your first debate"
There is the disoriented,
the miss-connect,
the heartbroken
the lonely
and me,
I'm the one left holding a piece of thread,
Gentlemen,
Let them in,
for it is time for us to begin,
... Year One.

2022 August 08

Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2022

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