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C'est la vie

There must be something more than this world
In this world,
There must be something more to living
Than living for tomorrow or today,
So what do you say?
Let’s pack our bags and walk away,
Say ‘c’est la vie’ and ‘come what may,
There’s something more to this world
Than pure joy and dismay.’

There was excitement in th’autumnal air
The night you rushed to A&E
As life-long hopes clung to despair,
And panic peaked though levity.
Those ever-closing evenings
Imply a strange suspense
That claims prophecy of everything:
Proposals, adventures, secrets told,
All unforeseen events.

You know the way darkness
Sucks at your eyes?
That’s how I felt
When I saw your demise;
The steady tone
Of the telephone
To your heart let me know
No one was home,
No answer-phone,
No message,
No number,
No smile.

The past tense fumbled ‘round my tongue
And numbness stopped my ears,
My life lay cold with clarity;
Useless, lonely, empty years
Reaching into distant black,
A grey and wind-swept path,
Shown me only by the light
Of your now-fading laugh.

It’s an heartbreaking thing to know
That the best of life is gone,
That whatever the future brings
It won’t par what you’ve known.
The saddest words of mouth or pen
Are ‘it might have been’,
I know I can’t pass judgement
On things I’ve never seen,
But if that is true then this I own:
‘Be you Shakespeare, Milton, or ‘Boz’,
Of all the words your quill can form,
Second saddest are ‘it was’’.


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