I suppose there comes a time in life where the metaphorical last call would force us to face up to waking up our idea.
Tomorrow will be the first day of my last semester of school.
The ups and downs of school life are truly about to begin to come to an end.
Every last semester before this now seems like a giant joke that should have never even been considered with any modicum of gravity.
And so we’ve had another night
Of poetry and poses,
And each man knows he’ll be alone
When the sacred ginmill closes.
And so we’ll drink the final glass
Each to his joy and sorrow
And hope the numbing drink will last
Till opening tomorrow.
And when we stumble back again
Like paralytic dancers
Each knows the question he must ask
And each man knows the answer.
And so we’ll drink the final drink
That cuts the brain in sections
Where answers do not signify
And there aren’t any questions.
I broke my heart the other day.
It will mend again tomorrow.
If I’d been drunk when I was born
I’d be ignorant of sorrow.
And so we’ll drink the final toast
That never can be spoken:
Here’s to the heart that is wise enough
To know when it’s better off broken.
Let us be opened up for possible defeat and let ourselves learn how to get back up again and to eventually gain enough wisdom to continue fighting better and living wiser.