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Venn Cross
by Richard VinceIt has gone the way of all things:
Returning to nature from which
It was roughly hewn, while
Atoms separate and rejoin
To create unworthy successors.
It lingers only in nostalgic
Monochrome inhabiting
Decades old paper printed
Before I was born, and yet
It has made a home
In my memory.
My mind chooses the oddest things
To remember; does it believe
They will be significant, or
Does it just like to be different?
To numbers that no one needs
To know, I can add places
That barely even existed
As my least useful memories;
But not people I did not
Really know.
Even a stranger can have
More impact than a device
To enable summer Saturdays to work,
Or the times of the bus
To school last century.
They can open your eyes when
You did not know they were closed,
Or give you a comforting tune
When all you hear is noise.
Faced with such providence, it is
Easy to believe in angels, though
It is much better to try to be
An angel to someone else, and
Rebuild instead of destroy.
12/28/2017 Posted on 01/22/2018
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/25/18 at 12:18 AM I find myself looking forward to your next journey. I looked up Venn Cross, a few photos showed up. I can see this fine collection of yours in a book with black and white photos of each place mentioned. You have a gift of blending the past with more current knowledge - that first stanza, for example, bringing in the atoms rearranging "to create unworthy successors." Quite brilliant. The pondering of why something catches the eye, like a piece of art that one studies and studies. Thanks for this. |
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