Day 17

Entropy

Like a bird returning to her nest,
Alas, cracked are all those eggs,
Her work, her life has just been spurned
Gone, never to be returned--
But the same boy walking down
That same sad path, broken eggs on the ground
Crunching beneath his feet, sees
The melancholy bird flying free from her tree,
And the same sad boy on that same sad path
Looks up to the tree again, with his same sad laugh
As the mother bird is back, and the radiant sound
Of chirping children, the ichor of life come around
All bound by the same sad cycle, no way to win, but
The same sad man turns his sadness to a grin
Because maybe, just maybe, this imperfect
Spinning, ticking, crashing path of worthlessness
Is exactly what we deserve, and maybe, somewhere
Within this maze, flowing green sways of nature's hair
Is a tree, where the fight has started again, returning beauty
To a cycle of gloom and sadness to grins while truthfully,
Life has yet to begin.


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