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
Weltanshauung
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?
derekjamescarter 