This lethargy steers past any idea of awakening
to a new age; that doesn’t say a numbness that
dispirits - there’s still vestigial energies left there
yet to grow limbs enough and climb from pits of
despair; what we need’s an icon in thinking that
abets distress from doldrums left living too near
the rakish edge; we’re not of the celestial breed
yet we’d float to be freed its meditative space
So if there’s a contest - perhaps a foot race for
agile thinkers, we’re into the money again; and
back where we were, with an early advantage -
who’s going to complain when you answer the
trick question, you wouldn’t be here if knowing
its right response said you’d be free to leave
© 10 September 2015, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment