The Days of Yesterday
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The Days of Yesterday

by Paul Hall, the 4th of June, 1987, Caracas, Venezuela

You count the days of yesterday

or ever was begun

the stage on which you call your life,

the which, you fear, when done

will fade into oblivion 

when thus your days are spent

and nevermore your conscious mind

perceives one more event.

But stay, I pray.  On one small thought

my protest thus is based:

Do you for but one moment think

that all by death erased

will not, beyond, recount again

in time and depth and space

all that his every action caused

in some untimely place?

You drink the drug of circumstance

and call it accident;

you never pause considering

on what your days are spent.

And then when dawns the reasoning

of why, in darkness here

those who by tradition forget the lessons clear

of why they e're existed

and to confusions throw

all care, will drugged oblivion

make therapy their show.

Energy holds energy

hot plasma in the dish

eons or millenia till they fulfill their wish

to find themselves some cooler spot

away from bright green spray

where nothing ever anymore

could just have it's own way.

Till then a hospital of heat

will place them in confines

destined there to but repeat

their lives and intertwines.