What's Natural
What’s natural is rarely kind.
It’s what grows in leaps and bounds
From chaotic paranoia in the abstract
To orderly mitosis in the particular
An avalanche of exponential divisions
Until all resources are consumed
All space filled
And the cancer of desire
Meets its end.
Death is the end after all
And likewise the beginning
Each moment needing a start and stop
Somehow jumping the gap between,
Flavoring the next
With the scent of the prior.
The horrible truth is everything that is,
Is natural,
With it’s own particular shape in time and space
Whether man-made or not, random or not,
Or by design
By who knows what, how or why.
We can do our best to make it different, but
Nature still is rarely kind
Because it always has the bigger picture,
Firmly held within it’s mind.
(11/22/24)
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
