After reading a poem like this one, I would expect to enjoy reading a few comments that light up other ways of 'seeing' the poem...yet, the way steemit operates, it seems all those who would want to comment, either have not the time, or else they have moved on.

I cannot help feeling sorry for them, for they are the losers. - and I am glad I am still here and able to respond.

But after life
Has broken us
Can we at least
Make art?

...and just how many understand what is meant - or what art means for some of us?

To me, one of those things that define us as sapient human beings is Art. All talents , whether they inspire us or just make us think, are a sacred gift we must treasure, or else it will wither and fade away.