I need neither praise nor blame.

No-one need ever die for me.
Paint is my doggerel and words
enjoy the playpen in my brain,
away from all that is material.

Our lives hang on the edge,
always precarious…We know
A few empowered men of vice
can soon destroy the many virtuous.

But then…
the spirit gifted us in our mortality,
Sails on in valiance ….
It saves us from the deep bastille
of that ravine so close to us..

We know,
That those who sing the finest songs ..
have also known discord.
We can return to that calm poetry within,
That satisfying word.

We share a common universe by day…
By night…
We each retreat into our
metaphysical and private world
of cimmerian light.

Kristine Byrne. Feb. 2019.
Photo by Nicholas Alexander Otto
.