The soft, slow creak
of that dearly beloved swing,
lingers like an ever-present kiss
in my mind-
that wispy mist
that enshrouds the memory
in translucent haze
reminds me of
those childhood moments-
like the furtive peeks from behind
living room curtains.

It is soon lost
behind that blanket
of never-ending responsibilities
that seem to weigh
a thousand tonnes-
a sand dune that traps
the unwitting creature
that makes it its home.

Its laboured breath,
like the coughing wheezing
from a cranky old bellows
seem to fade with every passing
minute- it is a burden
that Nature bestows,
that Man in his weakness inevitably bows,
to sadness and grief,
to dark depths unknown.

Only when the rain that falls
from the heavens above-
like the blessed dew
that would raise life anew,
reach out to starving, thirsting hearts,
will our souls cry,
in anguish, pain, and relief,
in glory of the source
of all happiness and grief.

Yet who are we to curse
at the Fates that determine
our injuries and hurts
when Man in his weakness
have not the power to prevent
the chaos at which we are determined against to rant-
for in Nature there seems
no accomodation for logic-
no room for human justice
nor intellectual debate.

There is only what
that happens,
and what that does not
that determines our course and plight-
only what in our power
to cause and prevent
that is the ultimate concern in the end.

weird piece today... wonder wad's the transition of the subject from micro to macro.... argh, econs and gp are killing mi!!!!!