“No Amount of Wishing”
No amount of wishing makes it so;
Such tide’s against eternity, and I am forced
To cut and run this side of common sense. Of course,
I opt to claim another day, and in the afterglow
Of what I’ve known in life, I’m glad for sentiments,
And memories, the meat without the fat.
This world owes nothing to me: flat
Upon my back or standing tall, withal the evidence
Is stacked against longevity and lovers of this world.
What is founded on the premise of a goal
Remains outside precedence, far beyond the folds
Of centuries upon realities centripetal within this swirl
Of fame or fate: the present foments dusts and grime;
The future’s laced with grave discoveries and causal rhyme.