Nothing profound or profane today.
Nothing brilliant or insane, the thought
of things in life to remain the same.
Thoughts of slow-motion stagnation.
Foolish he knows, nothing ever, not
even in a million years works that way.
But that’s what we do as life inevitably
passes us by, no emotion of laughter
or tears to arise before the eye as the
time slips away. Even the stars, millions
of light years away have something to
say about change. Acceptance he
figures is key, knowing the growth
and decay around him, within him.
What sort of fool am I, he asks of
himself? He laughs.
His emotion flows, and he knows,
life is the gift to grow or waste away.
Even his thoughts are transformed into
the words he writes upon the page.
Enough is always good enough. Life
and the living, until death overtakes,
will always find a way. He digs deeper.
Poets can always find something to say.
-30-
Chris Hanch 3-28-2023
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