CHAOS
CHAOS
Chaos is the absence of all order
As is now with me, totally adrift
Supposedly I was the constructor
But who was really the architect
I assume blaming me was correct
Not some pretentious conductor
Yet, this was never seen as a gift
As if insanity crossed the border
Like a wall built up of dry bricks
That now is a mere scattered pile
I sense when the harmony ceases
And has that uneven odd rhythm
All due to some unknown schism
Just as my life that’s all in pieces
Rebuilding could take a long while
As disorder has learned new tricks
Copyright © Howard Osborne | Year Posted 2025
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