Musings of A Troubled Youth

If it was nothing then,

Nothing now....

How can nothing stretch on

Into so much


No answers. Few questions?

Merely a meadow.

If that meadow were mine- truly mine-

I would be


Without questions

For which there are

No answers.



The midst of a city,

Offering everything

Except anything,

Making promises

To someone else.

If a word were a sketch,

I would paint a mural

Of all there is,

And they would call it a Masterpiece,

For it would explain

What my heart could not:

There would be a city

And a meadow,

Divided by a desert.

Nondescript beings

Laughing, crying, screaming.....

No tears. No reasons. No hopes.

Those standing backwards,


Those facing forward,


And the builidngs would have

No rooftops.....

The streets:

No trees.

Then I would cover it all

With a Rainbow of


Just that.

And everything would be


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