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…
findingtimetowrite 
“as if anything mattered …” – We must keep believing it all does. Not always easy.
Marina Sofia – I love the way you evoke how very determined people can be to regroup and to keep going despite cynicism.