Lots of funerals -
All younger than me,
All from cancer,
Hits you in the guts of'
Your mortality.
We wish that we had
A magic wand here,
To make times arrow,
loop, change, or stop,
The guilt-pain tracked fear.
But there is no such
Magic wand that will halt,
The moving finger
Writing on the wall of
Of life's rich banquet.
Sailor
28/1/10
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Omar Khayam
... View more