WHITHER LIFE?

Past:
Gone are those days,
When life was a goblet of nectar,
Those yards that bore stampings of small feet,
When heaps of sand made castles,
When vain efforts were made to touch the sky,
The world was so small then...
Now:
The monotonous life,
Wicked and crooked brains,
Masked faces, tortured spirits.
Flying high never gives me
the joy of those vain efforts.
The world is large, beyond the horizons...
With a weird smile on lips,
Tongue says, "It's all in the game."
Agony:
Life goes on and on...
Lost in a concrete jungle,
Futile to utter though,
The smile persists,
Tongue says, "History never repeats."