The Struggles Of The Fly

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Struggles Of The Fly

Struggles Of The Fly

What is the point?  The purpose?
What reason is there to be?
When as far as I can see…
Everything seems so futile

Like the shadow on the sun-dial
Like the colors of the rainbow
Like the days of the week
Like the taste of Black Sea caviar

Like the struggles of a fly
Caught in the sticky web
Moving it alerts the hungry spider
Moving it signals its readiness to die

What is the sense?  The aim?
What makes life a thing we desire?
When life is but ash after the fire
Scattered in the end

To each of the four winds
And none will know your name?

1 Comment
  1. Eileen Browne says

    Your words – my thoughts

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