“Please, meet me in ten minutes! It’s urgent.”
That was the urgent call I had from my boss this morning. Indeed, the issue was actually very urgent.
Urgent work had to be done to save our establishment from great embarrassment. I did it. My boss knew I would do it. That was why he called me. I am considered more or less a specialist in handling urgent matters. Each time there is urgent work to do in my company, I am the one that my boss calls up to handle it.
I tell them I’ve got a story to tell, And they listen with clogged ears, Stuck on their own theories. Feeling the terrible urgency of ageing, A foreboding; A sense of something, Left unaccomplished, Keeps constantly clawing at my thoughts, When I should be enjoying, What life I have been left.
It’s a cautioning; There isn’t time allotted for me to find An answer, to seek fulfilment. Changing times drives me to a point Where belligerence is natural. Man…!! What has he done with His life to merit my existence? To warrant another sunrise? Another soft rainfall? Such questions go without an answer.
A curtain of impatience descends. Emotional Intensity, Looms larger today. An urgency for completion, Comes intensely into play. My integrity is crossed, intentions are criticized And cohesiveness is lost. Cruising along the banks; Flowing with rapid urgency; Time shall never be still for me.
Sweeping everything away that comes my way, I move towards a distant shore Finding a resting place; A distant shore. It’s too late for stories now. Too late for confessions. I’m only a rushing river That had a story to tell. I hope, Someday when you have a story to tell, Someone will listen. Really listen.