Nothing in life works or works out
as intended. This
is no indictment of life. It is
an indictment of intent.
Intentionality is no joke - cosmic
or otherwise, it is in deadly grim earnest an attempt
to meet reality more than half-way to our plan,
to our dreams, when
all our lives,
we know and see where
it really lies. We win, the day
we stop daunting life.
The day we give up - not dreams,
but dreaming. We will wake up,
on our own terms, and we will find
Until that day, and every day,
we will die.
Which is not really so bad. These little deaths
but the life we never had.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.