Poem

Somewhat relevant to my comment on my last reblog:

Easy, far too easy to flip the switch-
Black to white or night to day or
You to us.  Poison comfort, the smooth,
Swift, foot-worn fall, no finish
But impact; well-traveled but only safe
As known end on the butcher’s block
Is safe.  The mad surge down the
(Self-made) one-way desolation road
Ignores the real, the many and multiplying
Unstable lights and shades of the cycling hours,
The myriad colors manifesting the restless world,
The danced flow of discourse, mind to mind,
Heart to heart; hand touching hand, accepting
Humbly, that truth cannot be reduced:
Is single, is plural, is static and shifting,
Layer on layer, webbed with wonder.

 

9/22/13

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