Thomasine Dye

Eternal Strangers

 

If I only had more time

I’d get it right, find all the lines

What time for study? What time for discovery? 

Such things for me are distant luxuries 

 

No time left to care

Why waste it in despair?

No time for French, no time for Hegel

Just quiet nights by the stove, waiting on the kettle

 

Never hungry, never filled

Nothing I do is ever willed

An actor with no passion left to give

Yet so many I have still outlived

 

A life-long winter of discontent

My youth so wastefully spent

The future is dead and gone

I slept too much, lived too long

 

I dreamt of life, and longed for connection

To be more than a machine needing correction 

But I’ve buried my dreams below to die

In my garden, where my roses bleed to cry

 

The eternal strangers, always looking in

Only noticed to be accused of sin 

No meaning in life, no meaning in death

In silence their lives came and went