Start here and get this over with
will you-so we can move on
with more of the same
wistful wants.
This two
let pass...
First things first,
get 'em on deck and in a row-
orderly, nice and tidy, see
things get done this way-
or do they, I pray
we are not just
tilling our rich soils
like Voltaire-infertile,
infantile and bored,
whereby garden side
resides this musing man
who gets lost with no plan-
hence without direction.
I reckon.
That is not you. This is not us.
We no longer grow our food.
Despite the growing bellies
thick with cancer,
bloated and blurred
in fact, it keeps us busy
wondering what happened
with all these weeds.
We were supposed to be a-
mazed, we can grow.
A lie, a labyrinth,
a temporary structure
lay in the dirt.
We were pulled in one direction,
despite resistance, like cancer
this was no choice,
but diagnosis.
There was only one direction,
it was a-
head.
On second thought
there is no good place
to begin to make it
in sphere
we are contained,
consumed and thereby
recreated
it keeps us busy.
Image of artwork by Lodewijk Toeput [Public domain], Pleasure Garden with maze, (c. 1579-84) via Wikimedia Commons.
