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Crisis interruptus ~*~
Looking ahead to the edge of tomorrow
And playing back the memories of yesteryear
Whilst I'm acutely aware of the concerns of the moment
Which bear sobering witness to wasted time.
The future's hand beckons with jesting seduction
And divine fingers point to my penultimate scene
Whilst the present reveals its annoying conclusions
With a cacophony of options for highways ahead
Without the excitement of anticipationm
Reflection's echoing softens the blow
Dragging up memories of a wasted existence
Which deaden the cries of a tormented soul
Have my own choices controlled my decisions?
Has some other piper been playing the tune?
Has some other scribbler been scripting my actions
For a play where I'm cast as an ill fated fool?
Unseen in the shadow the divine comedian
Continues repeating some ancient joke
Never seeking permission from the unwitting players
Whose actions respond to the pull of his yoke
"Good jokes," he quips,"are worth the retelling,
Even bad'n's get dragged up over'nd over again
As characters appear, fretting and strutting,
I look forward to watching their stories unfold."
Life's crises corral the soul's expectation
As endless potential stalls and gives way
To panic and focus on forthcoming closure
And the achievements and failures he'll judge on that day
"If mid-life's intermission is over and done with
I'd better go on to play the rest of this game."
The puppeteer smiles as his plot becomes clearer