Each day arrives wrenched in pain,
slopping over with undigested matter. Simply...
there's little time for the exacting
single-mindedness needed for triage. Too often
the living are thrown onto the heap
along with the dead. Decaying dross
quickly buries gems and pearls. What to do
when there's no REAL time, when every moment
compresses to include the one before
until NOW weighs a ton and must be heaved
(for survival's sake) aside with tears
of regret and unmet expectation? As hard as we try,
we can't seem to get our ducks in a row
before each one's shot down, point-
blank, by the next imperative.
Yours, mine... no matter escapes
the gravity of the situation. Inner, outer, utter
loss of dignity only mimics true
distress, twisting like a worm
at the heart of existence.
They said it would all boil down
to this ONE thing, in the end. Still...
How can you prepare for something
your brain refuses? No, no, and no.
Is that a way to begin your day after day... into
infinity? So... being kind, being good - so un-
accountably good - having the sensitive antennae
of empaths, and long slow wicks to anger,
we take and we take and we take it all
on. Collapse being our only foreseeable future.
Well, OK. What about the ONE? Could it be that
simple? As the pendulum swings,
we, of the human persuasion, are torn
between naked singularities: ever and never.
YOU ARE READING
No Turning Back
Poetry~ Some days, no matter how I stop up my ears, I still hear the bell's knell... ~ This book of poetry explores and exposes my personal struggle, as I witness an entire society turn its back to avoid seeing how its behaviour impacts our fragile, bele...
