brittle stone

Photo by Sam Jean on Pexels

I am most comfortable in the night,
where the ease of life settles on me
I’d like to bring a light to all the poets
of love and show them someone cares
for the work they do…
it’s sad, but the people in the world
seem to prefer artifice —
they like the shine of a slick veneer…
but our walls are brittle stone
and crumbling concrete, dull as dust
our floors are broken tile,
and you see our pipes have gone to rust…
but have faith, my friends,
and trust in me — I know what I’m doing
because the act, it does itself in me,
and motivation from the outside
is of no consequence — that sort of thing
will get us nowhere…
the fire burns even if so few people can see it
and the warmth has a knowledge of its own,
one that no one can deny

Franco Amati 2023

“I don’t know what it is I’ve turned into,
but whatever it is, it has to be able to take on
anything it wants.” — Paul Hewson