At twilight, when the sun basks in awe of its red attire,
Getting ready to set, and beckoning on us, hey! At night you retire!
And it says: “I shall bring tomorrow, ushered, and I, donned in my shimmering yellow attire…
You can…
you can dump on him, like you did to today, all that which you desire.”
However, it talks-not really- about a ‘today’ that tomorrow, it won’t sire.
Like you, before, I learnt only of todays that, tomorrows they sire.
So ever-each today, is to soar higher, and not to gather pyre.
After all, is life not infinite? Starts with zero, and ends not with zero? Lyre!
Is life not an equation that do not equal zero, sire?
He said: “You have to build the equal sign as for more you desire.”
And to retire at night, men are taught. Uninvited zero comes. Men expire,
Even in the sun’s presence, regardless of its attire.
And even… in the land of the rising sun, sun sets.
That spells an omen, which is not odd, but dire.
Nothing diminishes the gaiety of mortals like the tale of their presence today,
A tale of yesterday in tomorrow’s coronach,
And no joke is drier.
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