Mourning Pages



You get older--and who doesn't?--if you can, 
and you start to notice deja vu.
Things repeat, they go 'round & come 'round. 
Which lends itself to a certain melancholy, 
as you feel a creeping sense:
Something is amiss.  
That, rather than changing all the time--
the Grand Façade--nothing ever changes.  
The same old--VERY old--cycles have existed
and will always continue to do so.  
And, as some right-wing nut once said,
"forever is a very long time."  
So, you get out of bed, sleepy as usual, 
put on some clothes, and try to remember 
what it is you're supposed to accomplish today.  
Is it flying kites?  Or, fishing?  
Then somebody--say, your wife--looks outside 
and says, it's snowing [in April!].
But, you say, that can't be right.  
Ah, says the world, but it is.
It has all started again.



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