Poetry (Day 302): Reason





Sometimes, there is no
reason, apart from things
like gravity, thermodynamics,
biology, inertia and
chemistry. Doors close
in your face,  accidents happen,
people die.

And sometimes, the things
that are broken cannot
be fixed, so you
pick up the pieces
and carry them as they are,
sharp edges and all.

Or you leave them behind,
lying by the side of the path
where time and nature
and grief
will, inefficiently,
ever so slowly,
wear the edges down.



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