No Answers

Whenever I have no answers I turn to poetry

Poetry doesn’t supply answers

It provides inertia

A point where there was once love

A love that disappeared

An emptiness

A place where sense can be turned

Turned on its head

A buttress

The solid turns to dust

Where dust becomes a vapour

A sustaining vapour

It rises out of the Earth as we cultivate it

Rises and falls

Like a mystery

A mystery beyond worldly affairs

A world view


On a particular point

The diamond view

A diamond with billions of faces

That keeps growing

That changes every moment

A fractured world view

What do you see?

Destruction, perfection

Creation, dereliction

Or all of the above?

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