In The Brevity Of Transparencies Cruel Façade

 Time is short and my words are like bugs on the windshield of life.

They take wing from within my heart

 and crash helpless on transparencies cruel façade.

They come forth in silent hope and give of their short life.

 They spill their guts in neutered glory for all to see, and all to no good end.

Oh, how I rue these thoughts which plague my simpletons mind.

I write of them only now because of the brevity of this time.

I once not long ago thought of my words as being both wise and brave,

Yet I have now come to realize in the truth of time that it is not this way.

For I in my culpable wisdom, have played entirely the game of a fool.

I believed what I had to say had some meaning and simple truths.

Yet now I see that my wisdom is not profound, and neither is it wise.

 I have only in deluded folly fell sorrow to my hearts simple cry.

Therefore it is I in this, my finite madness which has come to conclude

that I and my words are really nothing in a world where nothing rules.

I release them freely to the wind after giving unto them their precious life,

and I watch in utter helplessness as the splatter grotesquely into tiny pieces

on transparencies cruel façade and die.

J. Allen Wilson © 2006