When things seem too stagnant and the world too difficult, ponds and rivers and streams don’t flow, and words and music and lyrics don’t rhyme or reason, a note to fret, a sound delivered of logic or heaven. The negating and the infantile unleash like wild beasts, as the population mounts their ego’s deceased. Humanity pins their faces to walls of social-media accounts and digital digitizing, replaces their hearts and dislodges their brains, and the lovely old lady down the street spews hate, and your neighbors nice family lacks that familiar repose, as you contemplate, how the man over-there, doesn’t show you his cool collection of vintage cars anymore. No more can you claim your humanity next to someone you knew as friend, as they, unrelentingly bash your good name for play.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Elia Pellegrini on Unsplash
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