The Virtue of Parochialism

I raise my eyes. That proves a bad idea.
I look beyond the things which I can
Touch and taste and see and hear.
I push aside the present for my fantasies
Of what will be, and, doing so, I tumble
Down into the pitch-black cavern
From which only opiates or willful
Tunnel vision can enable me
To leave, and see, or synthesize,
A reason to believe I should go on.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 45 times
Written on 2020-12-04 at 01:08

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