hope

by

drought…

when
the rains
do not come
why
should we
plow the fields
do we
out of habit
cultivate
the dying earth
as if
making promises
to
a lover
we will
not
meet again
why is it
that
we hold
this dry earth
in our hands
so long
earth
that shall
soon
hold
us
for
eternity

by

the cube…

at first
i was unaware
of
its existence
my universe
seemed
endless
filled
with
colorful nebulae
but
all too soon
the black and white
ceiling and walls
came into view
what
i thought
was
freedom
was
no more than
an elaborate cage
where
each passageway
lead to another enclosure
like
stages of life
where
opportunities
appear to be viable
but
the black & white veins
of
each
soon revealed
the outline
of
the next cube
and
the limits
it
imposed upon me
as
i’ve grown older
i’ve learned
to avoid
the more fatal traps
that
have taken the lives
of
others
i’ve seen
on my journeys
outside
of my
designated cube
i’ve also
learned
how to survive
on my own
not
depending on the myth
of
equality
so now
i rest
my feet
firmly planted
on
the floor
of life
that no doubt
will soon
give
way