Who knew fate could be so cruel
what possible gain is there stealing
not only the contents of the mind's repository
but the heartless theft of the senses
What could be heard by that plundered psyche
to warrant gradually, frustratingly, shutting it down
Is there some danger in seeing... anything
that requires sight's debilitating theft
To slowly turn the tap of life down to an agonizing drip
where it is wasted away never to be recovered
is a cosmic atrocity, and to have to sit by watching
once a star in that same universe dissolve slowly
into an empty vessel just compounds the entire farce
Have faith, I'm told by those already blind
You are not forsaken, say those who cannot hear
The universe moves in strange ways,
is the sage advice of so called believers... until it's one of them
There no offense intended toward anyone in this rant, it is a public flushing of personal inner rage, and when you are alone each day it is necessary for whatever sanity you can retain
YOU ARE READING
2 paying the price for 1
PoetryA series of poems and prose around caring for my best friend and wife.
