…of mediocrity

Time is a journey through endless mirrors where nothing remains unseen
and yet everything is hidden behind the shining glass
a contradiction of shadows and light
the hours and the years unfold unnoticed, stealthy and silent as the grave
and we wallow in the pale hues of mediocrity
seeking consolation in our sameness and our bland complexions
like paper flowers we are fading in the sun
becoming shadow figures, happy in the darkness
like the nightingale but lacking his mournful voice
the beauty of nature’s fragile art, just a heartbeat away in every moment
yet we are unable to hear the music of the winds
or see the hues of rose petals lost to the stream
these serendipitous gifts bestowed upon us at time’s bequest
disappearing into the background
finally conceding defeat and retreating into darkness
© Ann Bagnall