Night and Day
Night and day do pass in fated order,
A somber rhythm that does us enslave,
Time and space secure every border—
Eternal bondage, even past the grave.
Harbingers of doom there are aplenty,
A bountiful supply we never lack,
Reminding us of five, or ten, or twenty
Menaces that threaten to attack
On Saturday or Sunday or the next day,
No respite, no escape, no time to pack.
Each sombre iteration of disaster
Alludes to some one thing we cannot name,
The rate of our misfortunes seems now faster—
So, can we find an entity to blame?
Alas! No culprit seems to be forthcoming,
Perhaps the fact that we cannot perceive
Hints that fate’s eternal mournful drumming,
Incessant as the flies’ persistent humming,
Disheartening, insidious, and numbing,
Shall beat forever on, without reprieve.