For some poetry is the place to be
An escape-
ism
from the prism we have found ourselves in
the twirling
the whirling
the unrelentless blurring
of the lines
between reality and the alternate world(s)
A world that is scourged with
doubt with
pain, poverty,
power
but what we often fail to see
as we fall aimlessly is the beauty
the beauty of this earth, this home, this being
Us being
experiencing
the highs
the lows
the love
the loss
The unspeakable woes
The unstoppable boughs
Of the branches of our being
of our being
Watch it sprout
Grow
Flourish
And nourish
Our human need of being.
Of being.
Just.
Being.