On Hope & On The Future

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Pandora’s box

did not

come with explicit enough

instructions.

Read it cover-to-cover:

three pages,

two words,

“hang on.”

Goddamn it.

I try – and fail – to not overthink it.

The sky is red again today.

But I know that

right as I’m about to crack,

I will break through.

Sure enough,

it all cleared up.

Time for a change in direction!

Cassandra pleads with me

not to go through with it.

Lays out every uncomfortable truth

about

what I’ve done and yet to do

in immaculate detail.

What is certain to

occur, in divine mathematically-precise

tea-leaf readings.

I can only doubt her.

Spent the next few days

on fool’s errands,

running directly into

the current,

asking every one going the opposite

way “how about that weather,”

and they smile and nod,

going about their day.

I never saw it coming.


Fog Lights

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The rift extends over the horizon

and all around me

are shades and shapes

indistinct.

Soft hums

of far-off chimeras

echo in the distance.

The river of asphalt,

completely still

yet winds snake-like.

Pass the torch.

With the flick of a switch,

cast away the mist.

Burn it all off,

scatter the wolves,

the bandits

and the cockroaches.

Every puddle, pothole,

and patch of black-ice

exposed.

Every wayward wanderer,

given fair-warning

of approach.

Come with me,

I will forge

a path.

β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-

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MjΓΆlnir

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Achtung!

Use with caution,

You could rupture,

The sky,

Flatten,

Your house,

Or put,

An eye out.

The handle is too short,

And it looks a tad tacky,

It’s head is made of lead,

And Loki,

Keeps scheming,

To steal it away.

But,

Credit where credit is due,

It works wonders,

Holds great power,

And can still be seen,

Today.

It still rings true,

They don’t make them,

Like they used to.