I borrowed the title from an article at such small hands on the death of Hunter S. Tompson, a man who did it his way to the very end. Her article title is just one magnificent tag line. It inspired me to write the following poem.
A Life in the Key of Lost
We strain and strive to find our place
Within the span of time and space
Some choosing to live the examined life
Others seeking to avoid the strife
Yet all appraised by someone, somewhere
Our lives play out on a public stage
Some quiet, and some with rage
Some seeking to break the ties that bind
Others wanting only to find
Someone who stays long enough to care
The questions intrude even unasked
Leaving the souls of all unmasked
We run and hide or bluster and bully
Yet still the inexorable pulley
Lifts the hidden into the light to wait
Who’s the fool and who’s the victor?
Those loose or those stricter?
The key lies beyond the curtain
When arrives the moment certain
Of nothing or something, but yet too late
For as a tree falls so shall it lie
For good use or just to die
Too late our souls reach the final door
With key to open or nevermore
No locksmith left to pay the cost
And then the moment of moments arrives
Out the shade, out the lies
When all is laid out for all to see
Who it is that found the victory
Or was left with a life in the key of lost?