---

looking up into a bowl
over this ball that's cracked and old
spinning on just as arranged
sometimes
the vast sky is strange

shredding paper, spilling ink
words tumble blithely as i think
trying for a depth and range
sometimes
poetry is strange

there are ironic truths in lies
there are many starry skies
there are questions
which arise
there are fools and
there are wise
transparency
and deep disguise
there are many who
despise

i have a hope
that things will change
but
sometimes
LIFE
is
very
strange


soulsurvivor
(C) 8/30/2015