Another poem in The Blanton Collection.
Human
a single penny isn't much,
but thousands result in many.
each one has a simple story,
one of true imagination.
man has interrupted the cycle,
per usual,
but the world keeps on revolving.
not necessarily around us,
but every piece of nature.
revolutions later, we watch
in fascination of ourselves,
a simple piece of the puzzle,
left on the dining room table
in the haze of rush.
when we are alone,
we falter,
and others pick up our broken pieces,
and we feels sorry for some reason.
We shouldn't though.
Our lives are all enter twined,
because our world is one big neighborhood,
where we all speak
a different tongue.
We judge, unfortunately,
but we are human.
What could you expect?
