A Search for Lucidity


The crumbling concrete of forgotten years
The desiccated sobbing of yesterday's fears
Should these have any significance for the here and now?
Can we afford to spare our efforts for just one bow?

As god's ever-changing masterpiece of yellows, pinks, and blues
is masked by the layers of man's greyer hues
and the breath of each wildflower finds itself trapped below
redolent piles of waste that continue to grow

Where are we going?
And, more importantly, why?
These are the queries of each thoughtful man's cry.
To answer these questions, we need not dive deep
but instead take steps backward
for we are already complete.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem