Paul Georgiou

No chance

 

So that’s the way it is, my God, no chance

to rectify the past, to make amends;

on, ever on, allowed no backward glance,

no means to justify whatever ends:

each eager ‘now’ no sooner here than gone,

ensnared within the present’s fleeting frame.

What’s done always irrevocably done;

a baffled player in a cryptic game.

 

Despite the darkness, of your life make light;

there’s little choice in any path you choose.

Be confident - each battle that you fight

is but a skirmish in a war you’ll lose;

remember this, when life begins to fade,

you’ll find yourself upon the bed you made.

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