Time, don't run out on me

 

Answer the call of my destiny,

And uncover meanings sublime,

So many things I could rustle up,

If only I wasn’t short on time.

 

A searing thirst for destination,

Lights the desert traveller’s path,

But I leap from mirage to mirage,

In confabulation’s aftermath.

 

Tap-tap-tap goes the old wood-pecker,

And the minutes are chipped away,

I barely get my act together,

When sun decides to call it a day.

 

Not knowing what to do with hunger,

The poor man rubs it in his eye,

I take the ash of day’s deprival,

And make light of the darkening sky.

 

Near is the hour to meet the Maker,

And all of you have much to show,

But a lifer in inertia’s cage,

Even death I must sadly forgo.

 

The End

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