zpotter

Progress

as we advance,
we fall back -

progress a plague;
addiction a screen
hiding forgotten truth
ignored with no recourse -
we know no limits
facts are rumors
whispered on the wind;
reality,                                            truth
is what we believe

we've done this to ourselves;
post-modern questions
opening the door for invalid answers -
we numb ourselves
with harmonious songs
condemning those who sing off key
forgetting to ask why they know a different note -

the disease is more
the symptoms: want and greed
we could be cured by enough

if we could see past the screen
to look back,
to accept old truths,
we might be sated

The End of Optimism

at dawn 
the sun bruises the night sky,

we feel night’s pain
for in the light of day
we can no longer hide
the ugliness of our truths
without living a lie -

dawn is a confessional,
but the trust is gone

with sadness,
we don’t see:
we’re becoming more comfortable 
in the light with our lies

Shadow of the Moon

in the quiet warmth of mid-afternoon
I looked up to the sky
and through the brilliance of the sun
saw a half-whisper of gray
poking itself through 
the vibrant blue curtain
as a button through a hole -

in a world where no one is on time,
I wondered why it was
hours early for its engagement
with the evening -

I thought I might touch the moon,
so close did it appear,
but as with so much in this world,
it was a deception -

seeing the moon at eye's length,
I was reminded of the size of the universe
and that I am small,
my time short,
so I must make haste
to enjoy the full warmth of the sun
before night falls