Old Is Old
One phenomenon weighs me down:
Humans killing humans -
It a thing that never ages,
Being at the top of sinful wages.
Ebb and tide does not die out,
But we too soon glide from this planet
When we ought to all live out our days
Until the very final phase
Of nature’s meaning
As was meant in Eden.
Oblivion, as Shakespeare says,
Arrives anon. In any case,
Soon or late, fate has its voice,
The thing we call free choice erased.
Old is old.
We cannot scold the unpreventable,
Determined and unshakeable,
Regimented by laws born
In every momentary bubble.
Old is simply to observe.
Old is simply to accept.
The script all tightly written.
Dedicated to those who understand (which I never did until suddenly at 56 I did).