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by Tyreke Armstrong
Millennial Agony || Jamaican Poem
We're children of peace,
Our parents have already fought the big wars,
The Dark Lord has been vanquished never to return,
Is that why we're so lost?
We struggle to find ourselves in a time when we should be more connected than ever.
Never has man been so alone.
Does this struggle illuminate the true purpose of life?
When the struggle for survival is internalised,
When subjectivity is the real truth
What can be left but despair?
A queer ache of the heart,
The knowledge I'll fade,
That one day,
If I'm extraordinary,
I'll be a footnote in history,
The first squad to win the Fortnite Olympics,
We'll remember the date,
Hand in hand with the Armies of Alexander the Great.
For time is the true enemy of man really,
An insidious old geezer,
Time humbles all,
God unto itself
For time cares not for the end of the story,
Nor trials endured,.
All wither in the relentless trod of time.
In this age of the now, is it any wonder my soul fears dissolution?
Knowledge of its surety haunts each lonely joint,
Each sorrowful pint.
Ethereal threads weave a practiced web…
Tekel, Upharsin -
Me who I should be.
Forgive me mother.
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