The Song of Resignation

The song of resignation Memories are not crystal clear, a broken mirror on which the sun shines The residue of the imagined, what ensued or will happen of equal interest as time doesn’t, a time within does. Past and future are the same pains me; I shall not see my savannah again. No pictures, as a proof it existed, in the tall grass, see no wildebeest my motorbike is sold, I can no longer pretend to be an adventurer. What I do remember, through a haze, is my enduring remote happiness perhaps that was an illusion too. A vision of human disappointment, to try but never succeed.