Poem: “Chance”



We can’t go on the way we go,
In moving darkness ruin grows,
Living in my eighth decade
I see the bedlam we have made

What’s to stop the monstrous form
That we have made, already born
Engendered of a crippled lust
Conceived within time’s uterus

Matured become the king or queen
Or both, a monster never seen
Before, chimera, monster, freak,
A thousand mouths, one throat that speaks?

We can’t go on and yet we will
As if the form ahead stood still –
It moves with us as we advance
Into the darkness we call chance

June 12, 2011


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