Moving through
this reality
is for the precocious,
not for the vexed.
It’s all at once a mountain,
and a valley,
and an ocean.
Hostile and constantly
trying to trick you.
Irrational and conniving,
a guarantee to wound.
Nothing is ever
as it was
in the beginning,
and this is its
most redeeming virtue.
Amidst all of the stumbling,
the blood congeals
into something
briefly wonderful.
Constant is,
what constant is;
the misery
and the suffering.
The hand of Man,
the hunger,
and the wailing
of despair,
but even in all this shit,
you can grow a flower.
Plow it under,
harrow the enemy
and plant a garden.
It might be
the most important thing we do.
Creating these
temporary victories
that keep us going
and pushing,
on.
This reality,
is not for the faint of heart.
It’s killing me.
It’s killing you.
Such a lying bitch.
So much is precious,
but it’s fading out…
…fading out…
… catch it.
HG – 2019
