The End of The End

And it is a glorious finale to a spell which
flew by with the grace of a sparrow,
but also with the short-lived speed
of a cheetah in the desert, finishing
in the inevitable solitude an oasis brings.

This is The End of The End,
a final farewell to the many
acquaintances made during the
all too brief three years spent
sharing our stress in confined rooms.

The crown of a plaza fails to signify
enough the crescendo to which we are
building, and to me the night feels
like any other, save only my attire -
a tuxedo that, for once, is not a t-shirt.

The night is lost like every other night,
with obsessions over minor fancies
taking over my mind’s eye, detracting
my attention from the true essence of
this night’s ultimate significance.

So now the futile fight begins
to avoid the descent into mediocrity,
with the pull of the truth and the loss
of the few who transcended that divide
combining to move me to a standstill.

And that realisation amalgamates with
sadness to well up inside me, with
my ribcage fighting hard to restrain
the screams of frustration as my eyes
lose their battle to withhold the tears.