talking of despair,
so many suicidal,
so many depressed,
better to return to nature
watch the birds,
see the moon,
mesmerising stars,
lifting me out of this gloom.
Some daily selections
one caught in malediction.
Maybe  settled for the fiction,
that God doesn't exist,
have all here, embraced the diminishing tide,
death cult, baal worshipping
darkside?
Outside, green shoots emerge,
thinking of cancelling this subscription,
with rising sun,
new horizons,
future bright,
with these pages
almost done.
In another timeless place,
floating high above in space,
God won.