Originally posted for -Top Symbolic
Revived for - Sunday Scribblings Scandalous
Light Years ago, at ten, it commenced.
We sensed a wave of optimism;
rode the rapids at nine; relished
the prosperity. Nobody could
have predicted the severity
of the decline beginning at eight.
We hate the memories it evokes.
We lost all track of time at seven,
but the countdown clock was still ticking,
stubbornly sticking to its schedule
Dark Ages ago, at six…or five,
barely alive, it began – to gnaw
at our bones, asking for direction
Voices we listened to, gave advice,
forced us to face difficult choices.
Four…three…two…it was all but finished.
A lack of hands-on experience?
We feel it was inevitable.
The final digit; one. No appeal.
Zero; times up. All things; happy, sad,
good or bad, must come at last, to rest.
Our once, twenty-twenty clairvoyance,
and all those blessings we counted,
amounted to mockery; bluffing,
and we got our just deserts…nothing