Born of the light
of a faraway star.
Swaddled and comforted
in a mother’s arms.
Kindness came and went
as time moved forward.
Fate is a fickle thing,
one moment, we are who we are,
then next, we’re someone else;
a vessel discarded in the yard.
New model, new ideas get rewarded.
Can’t cancel my way in.
I’m betting on the doorman.
The doors are closed,
the virus wearing thin.
You can see it in the poor man,
with his clothes hanging off his body,
like a skeleton
draped in designer threads.
A whole bunch of us are as good as dead.
Don’t tell anyone I said.
Came into this world
with a light in my eyes.
The light grew dim;
you can’t feed a fire with lies.
I ask myself
if it’s worth going on?
Smile at the man at the door
as I walk on by.
Turns out I’m gonna live,
and tonight’s the night.
I’m gonna see for myself,
just how far we are gone.
HG – 2020
