Turns out everybody has a mask
for everybody else.
The ones you try to reach out
prove to be fair weather friends.
Everybody has a Brutus inside.
The ones you keep abreast
are the green-eyed monsters.
There is no good in good luck
or best in best wishes.

Gone are the days
when stargazing connected us
when weeping together made us
through the rainy days
when hands reached out
for the unasked help
when our prayers saved
the wounded strangers
when faraway lanterns
kept us warm all night
when sunk ships were
more than treasure chests.

Though there is no yardstick
yet the heydays of humanity
seem buried six feet under.

2 thoughts on “Heydays

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