The Arbiter — PEAR

*

Some say the perk of having lived
Unto a ripe old age
Is that the world bequeaths a perch
Surmounting any stage

The patron may have purchased once,
But cannot anymore.
The march of Time precludes return
To where we sat before.

We do not get to leave the box
No matter where it rests.
Except that time will raise us up
Above the buttresses.

A vantage point with preference
For seeing past the ruse.
The fourth wall is but dissonance
To obfuscate the Muse.

The audience is not exempt
From auditors galore.
The world’s a stage was noted once
Most famously before

The airwaves flickered constantly
So anyone can see
Behind the mask we all must wear
For all posterity.

We take great pride when we are young
To claim we cast no glance
To see what others think of us
While we discreetly dance,

As if no one were watching. Yes,
It’s true we make the claim.
And act as if oblivious
While peeking just the same.

But now I have to tell a truth
That I wear newly pressed.
I’ve reached a point where I can say
I can’t care any less.

The privileges that come with Time
Are casual and slow,
But once they reach life’s balcony,
They’re here to stay, I know.