Things outside
do not look
smart or pretty,

It’s time
to breathe,

dive deep inside,
start to construct
a different city,

or render soon irrelevant
all that divides, obstructs,
blocks parts or parties
that ought to flow
and merge
right with the rest of us,

And work to build
that said fair city
according to your brilliant vision,
though it will put you to the test–

don’t lay the project long to rest,
though you face
dour disbelievers
and derision.

And I know
you’ll live to see
the whole of oneness
rebound quite sound,
without the aid
of feeling-killing numbness
or disruptive, cruelly carved incision.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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