It began with a weight that no one wanted.
When it kissed the ground, the dandelions rejoiced.
Go ahead, breathe life into their dreams of travel,
in a child's burst of synaptic explosion,
They do not mind, not at all.
Watching the fireworks as a soul breaks free.
A line with a radius that meets itself
is little more than a circle,
a square with too many corners cut,
Serious clouds gather to discuss rain,
and so there is rain. But in all of this time
no caveman has ever hailed a cab,
no shark ever called a cop.
Two wrongs have never made a right
but three lefts do. It is not the soap that offends,
it is the soapbox.
We would all do well to remember that
the room was entirely silent
when Pilate washed his hands.
©2015 Christopher Reilley
I would love to know what you thought about this piece. Please consider leaving a comment.