findingtimetowrite

Thinking, writing, thinking about writing…

The Cynic

Something wicked this way comes

and no pricking to forebode it:

half-life of worry to presage,

beating of the foreign drums.

 

It’s all counting, it’s all trade,

beauty envied but not looked at.

Stuff back, shot-like, into boxes,

all the pretty dreams we made.

 

Hurting now, distance shattered,

we’re too close to feed our vision.

We lunge, retreat, fall out, regroup,

as if anything mattered…

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2 thoughts on “The Cynic

  1. “as if anything mattered …” – We must keep believing it all does. Not always easy.

  2. Marina Sofia – I love the way you evoke how very determined people can be to regroup and to keep going despite cynicism.

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