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.