The outlook is blurred on this moving stage,
Some see meaning in every season,
The old lion bites the bars of his cage,
Hurting only himself for no reason.
Others see a futile struggle of pain,
Without hope of redemption or grace,
The burrowed creatures fear the pouring rain,
And run fast to find a safe hiding place.
Nothing good has ever been preserved,
The glorious dawn light fades each morning,
The dusk heralds unknown darkness deserved,
Beauty unseen is gone without warning.
This sad hallucination is not real,
Even a Mother’s Love will disappear,
Leaving nothing but moments that we steal,
And long hours gasping for air in fear.