To The End
A Poem by Douglas Caraballo
Here is the 21st century:
Wrestling still with beasts unleashed
in the 20th.
Confused by spirituality and pure data.
We are marked by these wars,
scarred down the soul and heart.
The line continues to oscillate,
the lungs cling to the air.
Life is robed, fully breathing in blue,
catching fragments of possibility,
and shadows past.
Your story continues…
For what purpose, is uncertain.
The only thing you know for…