Where's God?
Life?
I'm floundering.
On this murderous road atlas.
Earth shifts. Birth to Death.
A sensory canvas of
growing into our shoes
and then doddering on to
oblivion.
Still life and photography
affecting, grainy
in/out of focus.
We dumb-hope for paternal
maternal fraternal romantic
love. Sigh.
Experience its failures.
Hope for some more hope
even when the facts do not add up.
Sometimes enlightened,
we are
when we're lucky.
Sometimes we muddle in mud.
Wishing for a full whale tale
and adventure.
Wishing our stories would be
convincing, though we are
unconvinced.
Agonized and honestly spent
our worn coping
fills us with humor, pain,
remorse,
doubt, a kind of debt.
Above we see a sky of shining stars.
Are they gifts to wish on?
Basking in their twinkling night skies
of profundity...
we lean in towards the prospect
of
a
black
hole
singularity.
Copyright June 22, 2013 All Rights Reserved
By this Author.
Melissa A. Howells Meloo/Tilt-a-World
