“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, April 17, 2020
Long-view
It gets worse,
or gets better.
Both
chaos and entropy
like cause and reaction
entwined for grounding
the current state.
There is no potential spark
where nothing is conductive.
This way,
we are all safe,
they say this is the only way
to survive
to sacrifice
our freedoms for fear.
What if...
the same question
was posed
If what...?
Layers of complexity are added for mystery;
Gloves, face masks, hats, sunglasses, shaggy hair, alcohol cologne, we have all become suspect(s).
To Be
Watched, traced, recorded, counted, slotted, allotted 1 per person, our fair shares tanked, our borrowed time was revoked, to be copied, pasted and erased.
Mankind does one through five:
Social Divorce, Marital sentences, home tutoring, web meeting, happy hours at home, time ambles a long dark path out of the woods, there are stones to throw and rocks to kick down the road.
Painting by Edward Mitchell Banister (1828-1901), 'Woman walking down path' c. 1882 in Public Domain.
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