Unnatural

The world and I cannot be reconciled.
We are tectonic plates grinding slowly
Past each other. Nothing's ever wholly
Right. So much should be done, but
Hasn't been for lack of will or time
Or means, yet so much, on the other
Hand, is done and cannot be reversed.
My mind resents. It dreads and grieves
Relentlessly, but, somehow, now, for
Reasons I can't fathom, I'm at peace.
The plates have ceased to move.
I don't suppose they'll stay this way
For long.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 45 times
Written on 2017-11-28 at 13:47

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