Life is a cycle of self deception
We play god spinning webs of truth and lies
We pick and choose the depth of affection
Though still idiots we call ourselves wise
Life is an illusion of permanence
Defy fate take risks see the spider’s trap
Slide from one phase and another commence
Until the silken threads completely wrap
Spider’s web innately impermanent
Caught therein resistance is futile
Delusion of control is transient
When death comes dancing on eight legs brutal
We cannot escape the all-seeing eyes
Cannot evade destiny as hope dies
The above is a sonnet (of sorts) in that it is 14 lines with a rhyme scheme of ababcdcdefefgg but I fudged on the iambic pentameter because I was feeling rebellious.
Tomorrow is the first anniversary of my mother’s death. I have been trying not to dwell on the feelings of loss and instead think about all the happy times and the funny moments. As you can probably tell by the above poem, I’m not too successful in that endeavor. In bed after a very busy Thanksgiving, sleep evaded me and my mind continued to spin. I mused on the transience of life and the way we try to convince ourselves that we have a modicum of control. That uncertainty that is inherent in living has made me sleepless. What I do know is that I’m less and less certain on many levels.