The days
though far from lazy
accomplish little
and afford no insight
excepting to insist
might makes right
and the meek shall
inherit nothing more
than that greater

And hope
but a bow
tied to this gift
of the present
a ribbon wound with
nervous fingers
and often
final words

And hearts
are made numb
when made to take noticed
that reason runs
to or
from that
tide of blood
shallow but constant…
that cork our conceits
buoy our enthusiasms ,
and where our superstitions
float forever


NaPoWriMo 16


You Know You Want To Opine

You May Also Like