Life could be a poem if it rhymed
or the metre was predictable instead
of random interference going on
amidst the buzzing of the insects in my head.
Life could be a song all full of joy
if its cadences were rising all on cue;
if the lyrics, though repeating, harmonised
and we wisely followed all the truth we knew.
Life could be a hymn to peace and glory
full of images of heaven here on earth
as ecstatic prophets reveled in their story
and war and dread were only tropes of mirth.
Yes, life could be a prayer and a blessing
and within we all believe it could be true,
but probably it’s never going to happen,
given what we know of me and you.
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