Some might say
We’d be better off searching
For an eternity of happiness
Wading through the detritus of our own minds

I would posit the opposite
That, seizing that which
Presents itself to us
Brings us home

To hear the earth-shattering chord
Is to hear nothing at all
For the power of it springs from within

And from within we invert
Shedding, enveloping, becoming

Alexander Micek

Bad poetry, oh noetry.

tumbledry