Apologue

Once upon a very long time,
two waves crashed into one another;
the scene was watched over by a mime,
all alone,
as there was no other.

The waves were blue and lachrymose,
quite certain of what lies ahead;
they had every reason to be wistful and morose,
coz the world they yeaned was already dead.

Nobody wrote a final and defining lyric,
and the requiem is playing 57 octaves below B flat;
everybody is just enjoying the debauching music,
without even wondering what they are getting at.

But still there are people who keep mundane issues at bay,
and inherently seek answers with zeal and persistence;
quoting an 18th century philosopher as i always say,
we seek to escape the anguish of being in the distraction of existence.