Cloudman why are you waving at me?

Is there something I don’t see?


I am nothing

I am clueless

I am lost


No cheque in the post

Fruitless attempts to summit my life, oh yes

Contempt with insanity’s grin


Decades have rolled on

Overgrown now the paths I once ventured

Blinded and stuck on some, —  far too long

Sometimes it really feels that I’m done


Now, time is called the ‘aftermath’

That little left should be made to last

Create the antecedent of tomorrow

Leave out today’s horror,

relegate that to the past


Nothing: is all that matters

Clueless: the more the better

Lost: is the prize not the cost