Ah...But Did It Matter?
In the scheme of things, in the sweetly dreaming night,
The wintry grey or summer gold of day and daylight,
Whatever is proven or not must be the proof,
And whatever belief is believed must be the truth.
All that can be done is to remonstrate and reason
Yet logic seemingly cannot change the nature of this season,
And climates remain and act as climates are depicted,
So whatever fate bestows is clearly unpredicted.
It was real and sincere, or so I think and theorise,
And with a sudden death decree it can only be surmised,
That issues misinterpreted and the reference of ideas
Made it just the way you wanted, so as not to end in tears.
Yet in the scheme of things, at the heart of times turning,
Between June roses in bloom and November fires burning,
In my conversations between the March Hare and Mad Hatter
I only spoke unto myself the question: “Ah… but did it matter?”
And the answer, I know, in truth, is: “Yes…it did.”
But that does not stop the closure of the creaking coffin lid?
And it will not stop me thinking and considering the path
That led to cruel configuration of a phantom epitaph.
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