The Nightingale; Existentialism
Old friend,
we meet again
Been a long time coming
After all these years
The Caller sings my name
Like the song of a
Lone mournful bird
Its melody,
bittersweet
But, when he calls
You have to heed
I’ve never seen him before
However…
He knows my name
And I know him too
He’s comparable
To waking in the morning
For no apparent reason
Early enough to watch the sun rise
Won’t be long now
Till it sets
You knew me well
And I’ve always had your name
Somewhere hidden away
We don’t like to think about
Things like that
Fragile beings that we are
Life in its infinite finitude
Do we treasure it enough?
Will the sums of our memories
Hold up against the vast future
As it continues on without us
Unhalting in its venture around the sun
Will my name be uttered in conversation
By people for years to come
Or will it cease to be as I have?
Who will remember me?