Poetic of late.

 I have not felt particularly poetic of late
which is odd
considering that I favour dark themes
and sad stories
which currently abound in the here and now.
The every-which-where that I look is overflowing
but not with good times.
Joy is a commodity that is absent of late
and yet
where is the point and
what is the purpose
if all there is in the world
is ugly pain and violence, hard words and hard times?
Schism abound that seem insurmountable
and the daily news is the daily dire.
The world is failing and not just the people
though we definitely come up short
in an objective analysis of the overall grace of a species.
So, I have not felt particularly poetic of late
which is a shame
because words can be lights in dark times,
leading to a calming of times and a bettering of days;
bits and pieces of inspiration to remind us all of the
could have beens and might still bes.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things can start to make sense. Once I have both myself and the universe figured out, I plan to take up macrame. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow


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