some poems don’t rhyme / they don’t fit into neat little structures / with their stanzas and meters and neat little endings / they’re messy / messy like life is messy / with no clear beginning / middle / or end /
& some stories are like that too / they meander / they go in unexpected directions / they don’t have a clear resolution / they’re like life / in that way / unpredictable‚ chaotic / beautiful in their messiness /
life isn’t a neat little story / with a happy ending or a tragic one / it’s a messy / beautiful / chaotic thing / with twists & turns & unexpected surprises /
we try to control it / to make it fit into the boxes we set for it / we try to make it rhyme / to fit it into our neatly ordered world /
but it’s like water / in that way / it resists being controlled / it flows wherever it pleases / it doesn’t always make sense /
YOU ARE READING
the still waters
Poetryi stared into the abyss of blue‚ ripples distorting the image of a stranger. ﹛ a potpourri of words ﹜