I look around
The world seems to be falling apart
Maybe it’s just me, I think
So, I ask others
To see what they think
They tell me about their pain
How the scales have tipped
And how they feel exposed
Rubbed raw, abandoned
Forgotten for who they really are
They talk about the economy
How it’s tanked, not getting better
Life supports they say
Won’t prevent the inevitable—
The eventual fall of what can no longer stand
I have my ideas—about the economy, our spiritual condition
And everything else
Not to be morbid, or fatalistic
But much of what we’ve been holding onto is over
Gone, giving way to something new
What’s old must die
Not that it’s willed, but there’s no pretending
What we’re used to will change
Surely as today’s sun will set
And tomorrow’s will rise unremembered
There must be something we can do, I think
After all, doing is what we do best
Then I remember—
All that is comes undone
By what is constantly unfolding
Poetic Alchemist 