The World Changes Itself Without Myself
i know that there is something wrong
like a stain of black clouds in the sky
like a shattered glass on the floor
or the white paint in your hair
but i, just like those days, never mind
those wrongs, - i just watch them
hopelessly, upon the idea that nature
itself shall correct it, - that changes
simply come like rain to drought, like
mist upon the grassy hills, - i leave
things as they are, for who am i? who am i?
to change this world, to love and change you?
i know that there is something wrong here,
but i just do my own thing, - i am
this spectator, this traveler, and i do not
stop in order to waste my time upon all these
the world spits its lava, the tsunami comes
upon a clear day, quakes tremble this earth
storms rage, fires burn, the world crumbles,
and when i come back, i shall only see
a clear pond of water, a calm river, a cooler earth,
a green mountain, a sunny day, a peaceful night
myriad stars come again for their twinkling
the moon shines and casts its sheen on the trees.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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