I’m trying to create the hologram of my future self,
But it comes out foggy,
Almost like the dream of a day that scatters with
The first blow of the wind of a warm night.
I think hard, I look forward, I plan, and then
I return to today, to reality, disillusioned,
Though always knowing that, I’ll never change;
At least not as long as I struggle to.
Change is only easy as a word.
The outer circumstances often change their skin
And the way they feel but
At the end of the day they remain the same.
You say:
“I’m not sad because I’m lonely,
I’m lonely because I’m sad,”
And that sorrow looks bulletproof.
I seek what I cannot find
And I find what I do not seek;
My life’s story in brief but also
The story of every life.
Time and again I speak the same words
To different people.
Time and again I hear the same words
From different people.
Is this the circle of life?
Of a life that doesn’t move in circles
But follows different paths?
Up and down, and zigzag its goes, and the thought
That anyone could ever change
Its course remains just that:
No more than a thought.
Life writes the rules and life enforces them;
Thus every effort to overwrite them
Proves vain,
Just like life itself, a pessimist would say.
