PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Call it empty socket wisdom

the fractures of cut glass;

some momentary madness

(nothing changes, nothing lasts);

like summer, though recurring

in endless timeless rhymes,

life’s judgement only lasts a season, then

promised lost, resigns;

and blusteringly brief, we, poor souls

undercursed and trite,

unravel diligently, daily,

previous choices sure and tight,

and ignorant of the balance or

how the weights are drawn,

are blind of what the assessor’s thumbs

are apt to light upon.



Though not of life, Heisenberg spoke,

but atoms and wavering time,

we who sit to measure self, it seems,

do so to just those very rules and lines;

and life, like the paradox of fridge lights

(light's off or on, door closed?),

is something that every time we try to,

in truth, we can never really know;

and no matter how hard we look,

who we really think we are,

is something that even heaven and the devils

only think they know?



So, to the last,

while off in search of the answers

to the questions chance fate might pose,

I reckon to trust, rather,

in the emptiness of sockets



- at least till the last fuse blows.