The Day After
The day after
This evening saddens me, right now Thailand
celebrates the New Year with fireworks
pathetic lives for a moment lit up by artificial stars
In three hours, time, it is our turn to shine
be blinded by the jollity, of bright objects in the sky
talking about the passing of time.
Time is not going anywhere it is still; we are ants
inside giant cheese holder made of glass, given life
from an obscure beginning, with one destination
that ends under turf or ashes on a log.
We labour under the illusion life is meaningful and
busy ourselves with trivia that is happenchance.
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