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.