Prelude

Yes, they are all Monets,
from far away, they all appear;
to be in bliss and placid,
perpetually in peace with serene thoughts all around.
But when you look up really close,
you’ll see, they are all nothing,
but quite a mess really, unknowingly tortured,
by self-consciousness and unrequited approvals from people unknown.
We were once touched by stardust
and I presume we all eventually return to it.
Prayers unheard and wishes unanswered,
looking for ways to part,
and oddly more than one.
There is so much that we miss,
chasing the wind and winding up where we began.
We are nothing, but the dining dead,
pawns of fate and destiny,
waiting to seek what is beyond these days.
But I still really think,
that eternity is over-rated.
After all, it just can’t end
and things are not beautiful because they last evermore.