Bewilderment repeats itself

An ardent longing for equanimity
spurs caustic nostalgia in minds
as heavy as this sentence:
recursive innate pointlessness.

Choose your own imagination:

A)
A full queue in volatile memory,
new bits coming your way.

B)
All bases loaded by an unworthy opponent,
not a single strike has occurred in years.

C)
A tireless escalator toys with a slinky
that rolls perfectly down its perpetual steps.

Dequeue, home run, roll down –
next, next, next.

I hope one of those fragmented analogies
hit home for you, painted a picture
of souls being pushed and popped
without an end or end –
what a repetitive,
dizzying game.

Equally confused
other generations
roam just the same:
bewildered at all the aether
time succeeds in dissipating away.