I Sometimes Hate Life

Life is pushing up and pushing down with its quills

The blues become more than singing about them can remedy

Could this existence be Hell or another kind of purgatory?

Guilty as charged with no chance of parole?

The sun and blue skies disappear for days and the greys take over...

Regardless of what is glimpsed through the window pain

Who may wish, whilst floating the stream in that boat that "life was but a dream?"

Sometimes the gentle lulling of that stream and dark canopy of elms and oaks lose their soothing and distraction

Maybe the deserving ones have left with the wind and sylphs

Maybe this place is to remind those remaining what had been possible

Maybe?

To have been more aware of our endeavors and their consequences

To close tearful eyes and wish not to be...now, then, and for eternity

Sometimes our sometimes are unending

Sometimes that relentless drumbeat never dissipates...never recedes

Sometimes forevermore