It all makes
a certain sort of sense,
as long as cleverness
doesn't get in the way.
Experience, adding
new layers,
pushing memories
into the margins
as our journey takes on
a deeper meaning.
Yet dreary symmetry lives on
unless we evict it ourselves.
Sumptuousness is held in art,
not in time and
not in neat, obedient lines
we once expected of the world.
Hair, now threaded through with grey,
like lightning flashing across the sky,
a wild and silvery map of every storm
we've learned to walk through.
The storms, they don't apologize.
Neither do I.
Let the rain fall where it may,
dance in the puddles
each droplet a small, cool mercy
washing the messy, gorgeous ruin
we refer to as our lives.
-EVW-
All for now. Enjoy your weekend all and thanks so much for reading.
(Gif created by Grok/AI.)
