The parable of the four lights

 © Mr. Namart Pieamsuwan |

It feels like an act of daring to go ahead 

and live what would have been a normal life two years ago,

To take the risk of walking out the front door,

knowing you could hit a deer or get hit by a car yourself

or catch a bad cold or otherwise encounter, at last,

Whatever it is you’re going to die of.

All this second-guessing of what to say

And what to do, instead of living.

I want to live.

I want to enjoy the time that’s left.

So many people can’t stand for people to live

And love and be free and go in peace.

A weirdness has settled over the world.

Perhaps the real virus is a disease

That makes people half-cocked,

And the absurd and the outrageous have seized power.

Except the outrage is often over nothing at all

and people spend their days searching

for the next pariah, who happens to be

the next person to stand up and say,

“This is all nuts,”

and even I can’t tell anymore if I’m making sense

or if I’m the one who’s nuts —

except the insane person is the last person

to recognize his insanity — which is why

so many people finally see the emperor has no clothes.

Run on, sentences, run on —

you’re old enough to know better,

so run on, sentences, run like the wind.  

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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