Every once in a while,
you see a sight
that makes you say,
"This cannot be
the world I know!"
This Is Not My World [Free Verse]
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Sinuous channels
cut through the
river's muddy
bottom,
carrying clear water
ever downward
- ever onward.
From fortress walls
it's all been seen --
drought and flood,
but something always
trickled through.
As it was before those
stones were stacked.
As it will be when the
last rubble crumbles
into uncut
dust & rock.
One who doesn't feel
a lot at home anywhere
Begins to feel a little
at home everywhere.
He sees not strangeness
in strangers --
No more than he sees
in himself.
Any one place is not
greater nor lesser
than anywhere else.
Lands of gold and riches
are as likely devoid of
authenticity - of soul -
as impoverished places
are dripping with it.
I want a bright Autumn --
brisk & clear.
I want a colorful Fall,
not one in which cold gray
blanches all brilliant shades.
I want a windy Autumn:
full of movement that
swirls & lifts anything
that's light enough.
I want an Autumn that
draws people outside,
not one that pens them.
I don't mind a bite of cold
as long as I can see white
clouds float through blue skies.