Simplify the complex.
Needle pulling
an unwinding thread.
Tying together
tears in the fabric
and
making the world whole, again.
Something like a resurrection.
Victory achieved through
total surrender.
The battle won,
the battle lost.
It turns out
it doesn’t really matter
in the ebb and flow
of war.
Something is
as something does.
No more time
to postulate.
Approaching the end game, now.
Everything fake
becomes painfully obvious.
Up close,
the veil worn thin.
Practically could
walk right through it.
Maybe we will,
maybe we won’t
be the ones to repair it.
Or destroy
each and every thing.
Every man
must meet his maker.
Who’s pulling the needle
and the thread?
Who’s weaving
all together?
Run around
in questioning,
never really exposing
the matter.
Concentrate on things
like clothing
and courting disaster.
Pulling at the seams.
Watching it all
fall apart again.
HG – 2022
