Wednesday’s Solitude

Wednesday’s Solitude

Stillness is the core of melancholy

It’s the sound of mortal ignominy

That J-curve of reality beginning at birth

The Angel of Death’s stand-up routine of mirth

Listen to the sound of nothingness

It’s reality crying for those in death

The elm tree’s leaves rustling and pretty

It all measures human significance, our arrogant pity

Fate laughs at the belief of controlling destiny

Events can be changed and turned but still inevitability

Life independent from that see, just not you and me constantly

Then hear music distantly

It’s frivolity, cheerfulness, the beat of human activity

But there’s Wednesday’s Child who’s the weight of logic’s reality

Nature’s tick-tock that frightens

Wednesday’s Child’s the loneliest but strongest of all