Men and women , we think we are;
spinning a facade to please the gentry.
Lives postured to assuage vanity
Born with a penchant for approval.
Boys and girls we really are;
Pouting and whining for attention.
Deceiving ourselves with trinkets and trash,
All in the guise of amour propre
Fighting for love
Loving the fight (is there a difference?)
We live like we own the day
Porcelain souls & primped up faces
All for a moments whim.
The moment is lost to eternity.
Our corpses lie wasted,
All said and all done buried with us.
Unsubstantiated & insignificant,
Nothing ordained for posterity
We are in a mad rush all of our lives. We love and hate with passion, but in the grand scale of things, all of it pales to the sands of time. What is the real significance of our actions? Do we even have a faint memory of our 4th-5th great grandfather/ or mother? What was the significance of their lives? Their anger, pain, jealousy, love… all lost to time. So I wonder, what is the significance of the sum of our actions and in-actions? Does it even matter?