Broken miscommunication,
building on our frustrations,
with the strangers that we live with.

Fabrics of our families fraying,
our history, we love erasing,
anything to break the natural bond.

We don't want to be alone,
but we don't want to share the world,
so instead we live in darkness.

I live for the people I meet,
my neighbors aren't strangers to me,
why close the blinds when you can let in the light?

The world we know lives in the dark,
hoping to avoid that benevolent spark,
that's why I'm here holding the torch.

I look into this never-ending sun
Left, right, right, left, the score climbing higher.
Then, suddenly the sun ends its cold fun,
and we look at our life it seems so dire.

Days and weeks slaughtered by the LED.
No love life, no friends, no freedom.
Just a window, what the screen lets me see.
I live in a poorly crafted kingdom.

Look before you, at this husk of a man.
He had such potential, he had a plan.

They asked me,
Who do you worship?
I replied,
The earth on which
She used to walk.

Birth to sixteen years of age
Delicate of spring
Seventeen to Forty blossoms summer
Forty one to seventy is
the harvest of autumn
from there onward is
Life’s memories frozen in winter

E.M.Rushton
June 2022