A Happy Futility

Colors.
Music.
Love.
Fate.
Health.
Faith.
Madness.

Each
with its own logic,
it’s own timetable,
a dance
utterly without
a common rhythm,
an intimate minuet
of lover and loved, blissfully unaware
of the existence of rules,
or even,
the need.

About this poem.

Some days I try to make sense of it all. Some days I just dance.

Tom