What Happens Next
What makes reality
ever so puzzling
that vain attempting to
just pin it down
becomes a deception
ensnared in illusion,
naught but a fleeting smile
behind a frown?
What then of fantasy?
Will we think ecstasy
merely a distraction
from duty and will?
How can mere utility
evolve a society
whose fleeting passions live
only in dream?
What is reality?
Now and not yesterday,
wrapped in the presence of
what happens next.
13 MAR 2017
03.13.17
Come Up: englyn proest dalgron
Come up again from the earth;
break through the cold crust and breathe!
Stretch those limbs, no worse for wear;
awake from your winter death!
Rise up through the thawing soil,
and drink the melting snow moist;
with your rested throat come join
the rest of the newborn choir!
Shake loose the dirt, seek the sun!
The world is once again young.
It wants new music begun
and merry wine and song brought.
Come up again from the earth;
enough of this bitter death!
Take down sad winter’s stale wreaths;
hang daisies and baby’s breath.
13 MAR 2017
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