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WHAT A PITY
WHAT A PITY
Minutes slip by and enter eternity; we eke out our existence
This is how our story is told. We are sons of Chronos and
This is how we say no to God; we have many stories.
The demiurge subordinates eternity by allowing us to taste;
We have a taste for war, a taste for death and wasting time;
Thereby, our souls are mortgaged and we are born howling.
The spider is on his way from night to night spinning webs.
Ladies of the night cannot endure the good life; liking torn
Clothes, disgraceful nights and inconstant hearts like us.
Our stories define us each minute and mold us from the past
We are called into being by the web we weave and come
Into existence by the stories of time which is not the truth.
Mahler’s daughter slipped into eternity bringing him sorrow.
Dying young is stealing time but it also stealing sorrow; Freud
Worked on curing our sorrow and could not accept time slavery.
The thought construction of the world tells us there is sorrow; its
Purpose like the spider is to weave a web trap to keep us in time.
The belief in time is a sad story for all things must end.
Yet, we have an aversion to eternity and embrace time, the
Web we weave continues into the night but there is Carl Jung
Who tells us that the soul lives outside of time. Why worry?
We are concerned because we try to make something real outside
Of eternity. We spread our webs like a mosaic of suffering and
Say, “Look, this is what I have to accuse God.” What a pity.
