The Betrothed and the Eiffel Tower by Marc Chagall in 1913
Because we’ve neglected to get better,
we’re far worse than our predecessors.
Time is a tissue, unwound with glee.
wadded in waste
only to discover too late
the rare commodity.
.
All the uncured disease,
the garden plots of weeds,
Time spent winding strands of hair,
hurling different shaped balls,
painting fingernails,
instead of finding more reusable air.
We fight for a bigger cut,
unhappy with our share.
We press delete
unwilling to discover
what makes our souls complete.
Together we could be a blessing,
but we treat love like a curse;
our vows as humans tested,
for better or worse.
© 2021 | K.Hartless
An old poem reworked for better and hopefully not worse.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Very powerful message, K, especially the first and third stanzas. 😀 Poignant timely words!
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Thank you, Tom. I think the poem is aging nicely. Time will tell. 😊
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powerful imagery K!🌹
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Thank you, Cindy. I think this was originally that sort of rant thing, but it has more refinement now, and I appreciate your comment.
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Rants and refinement work well Kate. Very welcome! ❣️
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💜
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It is so true that when we don’t disrupt our habituation to more-ness, we end up in a perpetual striving mode, which leaves little room for love. Love of ourselves and others. Thank you for this one, K. 💜
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Of course. Thank you for reading this one and for your thoughtful connections. Could be that de-evolution was always inevitable, but I am holding out hope that by doing what we can do, we will make the world better.
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