In the morning all the wood I’ve chopped
scattered, splintered, soaked from the water
carried. Wisdom pearls I’ve cast dropped
and trampled, worthless in the slaughter.
There’s no incentive to be free
in this headlong pursuit by greed
digital voices’ endless screed.
I ground myself, simply breathe.
All around the fury seethes.
Why try to renovate
creations mired in hate?
I watch as love blasts
I do not know.
I persist, though.
This life pure,
my soul sure