Poem: Another Futility

Another Futility

I do not know at all
how it could matter
what happens to me,
with my efforts,
though it does matter
to me, to the life I live,
but the world now:
I do not see a way
it will survive,
not the world I know,
not a continuance
of what has been.
That stability cannot be.
What does it matter,
then?  How can it matter?
My pursuits align
with what I can know,
but what will come,
if it is not an ending,
it will not remain
as it has been,
it will be another thing,
and I cannot say
what will matter at all.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: Neighborhood Inhabitants

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seventy-Three

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Three