Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Mystery

There are times
When it would seem
A mystery hovers in the void
To make its presence known
In ways both banal
And profound
 Before my eyes of stone.
I have found it 
Quite impossible
To believe
In magic or in mystery
Or in the grand delusion
Of gods up in the sky
Their nosy noses poking
Knife-like, carving up the lives
Of the people of the earth --
The sons and daughters of
A spartan evolution
A momentary birthing
Which all too soon
Collapses into mystery itself --
The uncomprehending
And uncaring, often cruel

© 2012 by Lowell A. Anderson.  All Rights Reserved.