i think to hide behind Bastet
and ignore the sadness that life daily presents
of youthful folly that is too serious
so i banter
and speak of happiness.
but think you i have no eyes to see
life’s daily senseless tragedies
that tears might not fall
from these old eyes
that have seen more than can be disguised?
oh lovely youth, your helplessness
scares me more than gives me bliss!
Your fragile confidence is based
on longings to find that special place
rightfully yours if you may conquer it…
but you, like i when i was young,
know not from where the win will come…
and fear inside you that you might be won
and so in the end be lost.
and of those who are less fortunate…
i’ve known you, you are part of my intimate
the part of me who looks and sighs
that part of me that helplessly cries
for talent lost in indolence
because you’ve lost your innocence
and wallow now in impotence…
and so have chosen to live
but yet have died.
as tears grow cold
alas as i grow old…
that life is just this,
this solitary bliss…
a thoughtless bane
which continues just the same