Simplistic versions of deities

Parade around in masks

With little to no depth

Waltzing to a slow death rhythm



And greed

The new anthem

The once rich culture

Disconnected from it’s harvest.

In manufacturing’s wake

Rests the skeleton of what once produced

Scaled down to mere broken windows

And no trespassing signs

Pride can still be felt clinging to moss covered walls

Belief still burns in the remaining dim bulbs.

There is proof that some still hold courage

Hold on to truth

A hard days work 

To return home to a child’s laugh.

The clicks of a clock motor 

Can send the weak to the madhouse

But for the determined the silence between the clicks

Can be inspiring


And pure love.

Our purpose is to create

Create art

And reproduce beauty

To notice the little things.

One day I promise you 

Each of us will look back

And understand the little things were all that mattered

The life

And time

We cant have back.


One thought on “Contrivance

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