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An evocative poem, by Molly, exclusively for Different Truths.
Pity,
only pity
sediments…
man the
meagre mote
worth just
maggot-meat,
one day
when he lies
interred
in soil...
still, how
he frenzies
highly strung
on passions
of
power game
chasing
shadows...
frittering
away
energies
for the futile
that eludes...
cravings
quarrels
that hijack
the humane...
worst,
upsetting the
applecart
of his existence
on earth,
this multiverse...
when can
conscience
be awake?
high time
before
worms
squirm
over us,
the poor mortals!
Visual by Different Truths
