A Fall From Grace
Is not a race.
Stepping outside the square
And doing something different
May, it just be a matter of course.
Or duly deemed to be aberrant.
Is anarchy a mobocracy
Or opposite lawlessness order
Are anachronistic anomalies
An undiagnosed disorder.
A fall from grace is not a race.
Neither fits new with used.
Inapt combinations often fail.
In the daily news.
I’ve measured up the new plans.
It’s challenging to find the flaws.
When we walk out of this world
Let’s leave by the emergency doors.
We hope the landing is a safe one.
And smooth and synchronistic
And that all the wheels come down
At once, and none of them sticks.
I looked out of the plane window.
And far below down in the drink
A dingy towed by an ocean liner.
To save them if they should sink.
A walk in the water caught her.
Dreaming how far she could go
Under the waves, she craves.
A place way down below.
They appeared to be an anomaly.
An anachronistic delight
The kind I could get used
To get me through another night.
©
David Rudder
2024
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