Until it doesn’t

Until+it+doesn%27t

Frida Jackson

 

How do we seize the day,

without fearing the inevitable night?

 

How do we have hope,

in a world where entropy is forever increasing?

 

How do we escape this labyrinth of suffering,

without fading into the maze of non-existence?

 

How do I stay whole,

when I’m bound to fall apart?

 

The crocuses may bloom in Brooklyn,

but the snow will come back.

 

The carousel keeps on turning.

Until it doesn’t.