Different perspectives

No idea what it involves?

 

Not going along with

the doom-doom stories

 

Not counting aloud

the seconds until daybreaks

when our planet

deflates like a beach ball.

 

Why are we attracted to it?

 

The foul-mothed chasms,

the hard-hearted ravines.

 

Why is it so knackering

to make the tottering link.

 

From dark to playful light,

heavy to brilliant bright?

 

When everything seems

to shrivel up like dead bees.

 

When all is doomed to rot

like forgotten hives.

 

You can stay seated in

your luxurious armchair.

 

You can stay lying in

your tattered hammock.

 

When we pour cold soot

over our thinking.

 

To avoid having to get up,

not to go out the door.

 

To hear the cruel laughter,

to see the brutal look

of our hankering world.

 

A world in which nothing

is completely black.

 

Nothing completely solid.

 

An existence in which you

must make your own choice.

 

What to jest, what to love?

 

A garden in which you can

water the wilted flowers,

plant the limp apple trees.

 

Decapitate the weeds.

 

A world in which to believe.