A celebration

 A celebration and a hope, like all, consumerist and vain,

A storm of half-learned knowledge, in existence's stifling chain.

I had the time and I beheld you, like a curse in fleeting flight,

I feel the cosmos as my homeland, yet its essence void and slight.

I seek a Human, desperately, I often yield to despair's night,

I succumb and tremble, as I strike the shallow waters in my plight.

The soul I cannot digest, if you seek it low and base,

In the head, I lord it over, claiming it has found its resting place.

In all things, something lingers—do not call it God, though,

It is memories from anguish, in time's most ancient flow.

Do you see in all a battle? You have a sacred woe,

Only dust and ash are gentle, soothing in the world below.

Motion is eternal, for you, it does not ask or plead,

Lest you take, throughout the years, your self with solemn greed.

Live like swallows, crude and arid, more coarsely than the air,

The pawns are slowly rusting, little humans in despair.