Looking down on rain filled streets with hordes of people under umbrellas


Thoughts On Random Patterned Chaos

Patterned People spin in rain filled streets.
Dervishes spinning in deluged chaos.
All whirling out their quiet peace.
Waiting, quietly spinning.
To what end; this living?
To this life what end?
Spinning.




Poetry by josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2019-08-17 at 02:53

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Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
It does sound all so pointless, spinning, spinning. Very well written.

It made me think of a little verse I read many years ago:

The Moon goes round and round the Earth:
Around the Sun we go.
We do not die of death, oh no.
We die of vertigo.
2019-08-17


RhyneHeart
I asked the same question
because it's always spinning
chaos when will when it ends?
Thank you for sharing!
2019-08-17