To Make and Fake

Poetry without meter and rhyme,
is like music without key and signature of time.

It is easier to make
and easier to fake.

It might work out well,
and the audience may not tell...

That you really don't have a plan
or know a pot from a pan.

But a lack of craft
can sink quickly, like a raft...

A raft with a hole
and no soul.

There is a hole in my world.
It is not black; it is not dense.
It is not bright; it is not light.
It is not a portal, nor a fence.

It is not something missing.
What is unseen, what is unknown,
What is unnoticed, what is fogged...
What is covered over and not shown...

What is not seen, is still there.
It's just shadowed; it's just behind.
It's just hidden; it's just obscured.
It's just not in full view of the mind.

That Place

That place,
where nothing shows itself,
Is worthy of fear.
For anything can emerge
Out of that grey, shimmering cloud
That is always near.

But what has yet to come out
Is the scariest of all.
It is the scariest because it is unknown:
The thing that brought this fearful place into existence.
The very thing that could bring a final fall.

And So...

It is easy to be for equality,
When we don’t ask for the details.
When we don’t try to specify
If it is opportunity or outcome.

It is too easy to divide something up,
When you don’t understand it well.
When you don’t know, or care about,
Where it came from or how it was created.

It is easy to assume the ideal,
When then you can fight against things;
When then you don’t have to plan for
How to make that dream come to reality.

If things are not the way we want them to be,
It's because we have not worked hard
To make it so;
We have not sacrificed enough
To make it so,
Or have realized it is not possible
To make it so.