Today,
once again the sacred and the profane.
Platitudes
to exude, the new and overused, never quite
the
same. The grape ripens on the vine, the rose has
bloomed;
a brazen idea is exhumed—It has been said,
risen
from the dead. Energy is forever, my friend. In one
form
or another, it never expires. The hog wallows in the
mire.
Tears of joy, tears of grief, both find relief with the
weary.
One person’s trash is another person’s treasure.
Expansion
of the Universe is beyond reason and measure.
14-billion
years in the making. Fake it till you make it.
All
is fair in love and war. Quoth the raven, Nevermore.
Tis
the season for rhyme and no reason. All sizzle and
no
steak. Feed me, I need meat! Throw me a bone.
Platitudes
and cliché are passe. Wipe that grin off your face.
This
is what happens when you have been sheltered in place
for
so many days in a row. Are you grimacing behind that
mask
or are you merely grasping at straws? To be or not
to
be…is just a bridge too far. And to be perfectly honest
with
you, I prefer the latter.
Call
9-1-1. Do not resuscitate.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 4-19-2020
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