PEOPLE MAKING SENSE

People.
Making sense.
Making nonsense.

Making sense out of nonsense.
Nonsense out of sense.
Nonsense out of nonsense. . .

and when we’re really
really lucky,
at our best,
we’re making sense
out of somewhere hidden sense.

When we make nonsense out of sense,
sometimes we later need to cry,
to grieve that chance
gone flown right by,
for which we’ll ne’er
see recompense.

So,
if we keep love and sense
in our heart
and our mind’s eye,
and fathom how
at least to try,

by and by,
we’ll manage to
enjoy the music
and the dance.
For now, and maybe
ever hence.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s