So much of life we face alone...


So much of life

we face alone.

So many holocausts 

and self-medications

So much of our existence

is more chaos than creation,

So much of our experience

more mental illness than stability.

So many saints

are rascals in disguise

So many forest fires and volcanos

so few uncomplicated childhoods 

So many good intentions 

cause so many kinds of harm.

Is everything we try to say

an exercise in wishfulness?

A meaningless attempt to wrest 

some meaning from the arbitrary fury of the world?

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