What if I chose not to write down this poem?
What if, instead, I put gas in my car and embarked
On a journey to nowhere and back? At the end
Of today, either way, almost nothing will
Change. Surely, no one will notice what's
Happened. The sun will complete its arc
Over the prairie and darkness will follow,
And ten thousand poets will upload their
Works into every spare space, leaving plenty
To read, while this poem, aborted, will fade
From my mind. I will refill my car and fix
Something for dinner. Then, afterward, facing
This keyboard and screen, I'll again wonder if
I should write.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 21 times
Written on 2021-03-31 at 16:42

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Bibek The PoetBay support member heart!
Exactly my feelings these days ... thinking the same questions you've asked in the poem. In the end, what matters? That's one unanswered philosophical question, I guess.

Love your poem, as always.