If tomorrow never comes,
yesterday never happened.
But if you lounge around twiddling your thumbs,
you’ll find your life and woes are similarly patterned.
Race about and plan
the next entire year.
But then you’ll soon be in the kiln from out the frying pan:
over-seasoned, overcooked, overrun with fear.
So much truth has been spilled
throughout music and literature.
But now through a pixelated existence our spirit’s being killed
slowly, as we succumb to the expectation of permanent expenditure.
So how do we discern
between reality and the lies?
How do we ensure that we continue to learn
whilst replicating the harmony of bees and the grace of butterflies?
Us humans are on the ropes;
about that there is no doubt.
But as long as we can breathe in and smell delicious hopes,
shoots of simple joy from under the concrete will still endeavour to sprout.
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Author:
JJoseph (
Offline) - Published: February 14th, 2025 08:17
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments3
Welcome to MPS 🙏🏻🕊
Loved the hopeful ending of this poem. This poem speaks to our present concrete and technological society. A most poignant write. A lovely work
Highlighting the struggles of surviving in the modern world but also that there is still a little hope for us all, a lovely write.
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