Final Reality

 

Moments fly
scattered like fallen leaves
in the autumn wind.

Hours pass,
pushed along by the press
of moments yet to come.

 

Cut out my heart, my eyes.
Perform surgery on my senses.
Do anything, but don't tell me
this is the final reality,
all my hopes dashed
on the stony edge of futility.

 

Don't tell me that I live in vain,
still waiting for the sun
that has come and gone
as I stand here in the rain.