Universe Beside the Window
If I turn to you and say, the light should by now be green, you’ll tell me that I’m not a poet. You always do.
Suffering seems to be important. And this vast landscape called; a usable interpretation of reality.
We’re drowned in input to the point where we regurgitate. Layered reality drives us beyond acceptance.
Sun touches the deck. Tomorrow, they say it will snow. A robin argues with the grackles. The grass is turning back to life. Maple keys think the rake is suicide.
We’re one day from Good Friday. Who should I forgive?