The Old Child
He could not see where life was going,
Or if it would go forward at all.
He stood to leave,
But sat down again.
He waited for a change,
For the curtain to be drawn
And the scene to end,
But it didn’t.
He hoped something would happen
But nothing ever did.
He did not understand failure or success;
Did not feel warmth, love and integrity.
He tried asking for a date,
But got snubbed for his efforts.
He was lonely and lost,
Felt robbed of his life,
Deprived by marauding shadows
Which hid themselves in the corners of his eyes.
His youth was now remembered
Only as a distant Epoch.
He was an old man
And at the age of beginnings, wished to die.
But what thoughts are these?
What form of reality is this?
Life was not created
For such things to occur,
Yet this, was what life had become.
Without warning,
The old child,
In the absence of thought,
Jumped.
My workmate could not be consoled – no matter how I tried.
Audio Version (To Be Added)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1988
(4th poem written in 1988 – exact date of writing unknown)