Is there a word for
the beauty of well-wrought pain?
I'd rather wander a beautiful field under magnificent stars hearing soft strains of magical music, wondering
No lives matter.
waters rise, levies break,
outside humanity’s zone of comfort, bearability.
Note our coalmine canaries,
so many suicides,
leap to desire to sleep forever.
Why not coalesce into intelligent survivors?
Where is our memetic uniting
against the common enemy
we must accept is us?
Breast-beating hominid --
better dead than allowing
truth’s challenge to power.
Learn to dismiss this misshapen world,
caught up in your beautiful vision,
entangled in grace.
year of ice and fire ...