Life for the Asking

(with apologies to Carlos Drummond de Andrade)

A time comes when you no longer care what you're feeling.
A time of caring a little less, but then you couldn't care less.
This is no time for love, let me tell you.
This is no time for an object to be subjected to yourself.
Love is real, after all, but then the things that you feel inside you
Feel like things that are just inside you, because they can't
Be somewhere else.
Wherever else things are, it's clear they are merely elsewhere.
It's better to keep your distance than to give it to something else.
Deep in your perfect heart, where existence does not concern you,
Where your sense that it's truly empty is just another empty sense,
You're simply a little tired, of the dreams to be dreamed
When you just don't care to, and the feeling of so much hope
That could never be more than the feeling of hope.
No wonder your eyes are closed. It makes so little difference.
It's harder to cast a shadow when you are one of yourself.
Beginning it all again, turning your hopes into actions,
Changing your sense that changes come to nothing that isn't change,
It's a little late for all that, new beginnings are just beginnings,
There are only so many motions you can go through with a day
When it's all you could ever ask for, and it's only another day.
A time comes when you no longer bother with asking.
A time of asking a little less, but then you never asked for less.
An hour comes when the hours come because life
Worth the asking is over, and the time that you feel is left
Feels like time that is simply left.

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