BY DR. AGONSON
I followed the rules, I bided my time,
I crossed every T, I waited in line;
Each step was measured, all things were prepared,
and yet what I hold is dust in the air.
I grasp what is naught, and so my hope dies—
I take what I want: what cause to refrain?
What I desired I’ll never attain.
So do what you will; my life has no worth.
This song has no rhyme, this laughter no mirth.
My hands are empty; they hold only lies.
I leave what I have, my hurt and my pain.
I sigh and proclaim, “There’s nothing to gain,
no heavenly star and wish to be prayed,
No point to be found in all that’s been made.”
In vast empty space, no one hears my cries.