time

when I consider how my time is spent
amongst debris of knowledge and indifference
in this dark world of pale absence,
useless rise, useless lament.

perhaps Maker, not guidance,
examinator of sorrow, if then you be,
what light is this, shining gloomily?
pointless flickering, past pittance

no curiosity left to explore, I do not need
any more tests or hopeful times
neither yoke nor prize

to choke either way. I read and I read
of life, deed, love, crime,
but none do I live in my life.