This is a Heroick Haste

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We must celebrate a funeral as a tribute
To a woman or a man’s life, applaud not only
Their achievements, but their character
For the notes of time in fact do not judge

We hasten to our end with hardly onlookers
Authentick by the choices we made
Or the choice of not choosing
Indecision being a kind of a choice

Apathy being a kind of vice of destiny
Opportunity does not wait, nor love
It comes and goes like the opening skies
Treason to ourselves we oft’ commit

Serving duties to title ourselves with praise
Praise as empty as the possessions we accumulate
Travel being a luxury for the fortunate
Not fortunate by merit, but oft’ by birth

This is the world we live in, the ordered inequality
We must celebrate this world before
It’s funeral, before even we go extinct
On our palms the weight of destiny

In our minds the aura of the future’s trade
Swift and restless are the seasons
To fly to wings of victory or perish
And not to a man’s stars can we assume

The choice was his or the storms portrayed
The soul of a man is indeed something else
Than the shallow roles he may have played
To subdue, to civilize, to humanize and to entertain.

5 thoughts on “This is a Heroick Haste

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