WHEN A PUSH
TURNS TO SHOVE
Somehow the mountain's more evil
than it seems. And always the same,
amidst changes too. That's why I've
never much liked this life, in its
paradoxical ways - one dislikes
the hanging on while hoping like
heck it stays. The whimsical nature
of one moment's fortune? Or the
long slow-run to the end of days?
-
Apparent as it is, the division exists:
light versus dark; some stay in light
while others embark. Fame as elixir,
or the stolid misery of a personal
infamy mired in loss. Poverty.
Shame?
-
To those who take it to the streets,
someone like me used to say 'right
on!' Now there's but a clammy
silence befitting the calm.
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