Permeable Realities, No Distinction, not Actually

“And after that the dark!” ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

“Has crush’d thee here” ~

Charles Tennyson Turner, “On Finding a Small Fly Crushed in a Book”

It seems sometimes that life and death break through

Each other, beautifully and otherwise.

There entities each take a neutral view

Of destiny.  They glance at teenage guys,

Both death and life, dispassionate as stone,

Both look and look away.  They look to search

Like searchlights sweeping.  If they see a groan,

The do not pause.  They do not note the lurch

One young one makes to death and do not see

Another waking up from drugs to find

Escape and move to his eternity

Six decades later.  Life and death are blind.

  The head of one falls, crushed beneath a tire.

    Another shoves life’s lusting flesh desire.

©  Phillip Whidden