Reclamation

And so it goes
from cradle to grave
From baby’s wail
to funeral laid

We reason, ponder,
dissent, and cry
As time repeats
and years go by

Sages offer
their grand excuse
In what’s left wanting
to feed the muse

But one thing’s certain
to never change
Death recycles
— the same old game

(The New Room: May, 2024)