Why do people find each other, at all?
What brings them to each other?
I’m tired of the rush, the rush around love.
The rush that ends with seeking,
a seeking for healing.
The rush that makes people need people,
than want them.
Sometimes I suspect a cosmic conspiracy-
the voice breaking over the sound of waves,
the heart pivoting in directions of the
sparse summer breeze, the moon lurching
in incandescence of the sorrows of the past,
roads sleepwalking into an uncertain hope-
little bit of everything appears unnatural.
You can tell, there are more things at work,
disrupting the usual course of a man’s
behaviour-that’s where they’ve met them.
You can now tell, there are more things to be blamed.