[Poetry] New Age by Ann Christine Tabaka
Backward spinning, idea turning, time lost.
Trying to figure out where I started,
or if I finished, and how I got here.
Undefined words of peculiar descent,
falling into sentences that phases
never recognized, a puzzlement at best.
Answering the call, the light goes on at midnight.
Lucid thoughts now scrambled by the dark night.
did I ever make much sense even
when the day light greeted?
Who am I to ascertain the wisdom of the learned?
I acquiesce to the new age of time.
A confusing language of their own device.
Quandary, do they talk the same way that they write?
Answer, doubtfully my dear!