Oxímoron

Hurry slowly, my love, the night
claims our presence. It's the calm and its chords
today the essential luxury that snatches the world from us,
the forgotten memories, silent music of these days of mourning.

Hurry slowly, for these days do not wait for you,
this eternal present will show no mercy,
for those who, realists, have asked for the impossible,
for our simple complications, for our scars.

It may be that yes, that dying is part of life.
Today more than ever, the planet and its lies.
Rain that burns, people waiting, child soldiers,
undead at the lonely club party.

It may be that yes, that the history of the future, that of tomorrow
will be written without stars, new and improved.
Dark lights, routine emergencies, smart weapons,
controlled chaos, daily news, today is always.

Hurry slowly, for today I found myself lost.
Today I must break the tedium, its commitment-free pact.
Today I believe I can survive this death,
break this chain that embraces me, a permanent truce.

It may be that yes, that dying is part of life.
Today more than ever, the planet and its lies.
Rain that burns, people waiting, child soldiers,
undead at the lonely club party.

It may be that yes, that the history of the future, that of tomorrow
will be written without stars, new and improved.
Dark lights, routine emergencies, smart weapons,
controlled chaos, daily news, today is always.