So in the confusion,
what does one do?
They withdraw,
they read,
they chase butterflies
and they look at all the beautiful things of this world
and wonder...
They brethe,
but they barely live,
except when alone in a place of loneliness and beauty.
They think,
but answers come easy,
puzzles are not
and math becomes simple...
They travel this life not making an impression,
they think,
but thought is not up to them.
it is up to others
and others see value in this life that thinks it is alone.
2 comments:
I surfed in to see your "bells for Barry" -and found this wonderful poem.
I love your header.
Nice to meet you.
oh boy,
this is a hard nut of a poem to crack. it is wonderful!
...
xo
erin
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