Fresh Angles
I used to think I could see the truth,
lately that view is a bit cloudy;
Fractions of newness hold a glimmer
that unveils the clearest of blue skies;
I’m so done with basic addition
that never delivers an answer;
Absolution without confusion,
I know now that does not exist;
Dividing and then multiplying,
sounds to me like chaos theory;
Maybe the world just isn’t linear,
maybe that is why we worship prose;
All of it’s acute shards and splinters
glitter and let in some fresh angles;
Words are up for interpretation,
logic leaves no room for objection.
Copyright © Melani Udaeta | Year Posted 2025
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