Confluent Madness
By Odin Roark

Hate and love
locked in mortal combat.

Crossing of swords continue
amidst a tempest rising,
where minds and hearts clash,
ignoring their innate bond

Heavy storms of distorted wishes
churn and roil, their power struggle
determined to erode any resistance.

Children look on,
their eyes willed shut,
their ears closed to the madness,
their trembling bodies seeking repose.

While adults imitating their offspring,
continue wanting,
thinking,
acting,
as if right and wrong are unknown
as if doing what they ought is somehow foreign.

Away,
far away
possible realms of peace watch,
expressing neither laughter nor contempt,
merely to vibrate their appetites,
twisted pity for our sentient failure.

Ironically close however…

Oh, so very close,
our scurrying ancestry
peer through the soles
of evolution's descending boots,
their imprints picking up once again
man's delusional habit,
that lesser judgmental-existence can be permanently crushed.

So much known.

So little learned.