Well, it's my birthday. The big two-nine, the last birthday of my twenties. It got me thinking about the last decade or so, how far I've come, how little I've done with my life. It's a contemplative time; from here on out, it's just a countdown to 30.
Once, a long time ago, I knew what I was doing. Everything was clear, every step I took had purpose. Time does something to that. It distracts you, it shakes your will. It wears you down. But hey, that's life, neh? It's all you can do to keep going.
I Have My Days
It's been a while, but I remember when
I thought I'd live forever. Hell, who never
wore that mask? I was immortal then,
a howling beast, so indolent and clever.
The worldlust burned; whenever I so chose,
whatever I desired would be mine.
No consequence! The future was a rose
clutched in my hand; my will. My design.
But now, the mirror tells a different story,
one lined with stuttered fear and idle pain.
A touch of memory lost and shallow glory,
the humble, hollow breath of what remains.
I have my days. There, in the eye, a spark
of what I was; a fist clenched in the dark.
The Weekly Sonnet is exactly what it sounds like. Every week, there'll be a shiny new sonnet for your perusal; some will be traditional, some will be not so much, some will test the boundaries of what exactly a sonnet is. It's a project, an experiment, and a hobby all rolled into one. All materials published on this page are copyrighted to Warmonger Smurf. If you publish any segment of this site without my permission, I will sneak into your house at night and pee on your toothbrush.
2 comments:
This means you're going to stop smoking and eat vegetables now right?
Vege-wha?
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