Ark


I hear faint whispers,
Far from this devouring sea.

I am lost,
Waiting for pestilence to pass.

That all things must pass,
Small comfort to the despair of this place.

I press my hands together in supplication,
Not knowing what to ask,
Knowing only that some things must stop
Before other things begin.

I hear faint whispers.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Epidemic


Addicted,
So easily,
So quickly to myriad petty attractions
Beckoning from these now ubiquitous devices,
Clutched so feverishly in hand,
Transfusing.

We are entranced,
Enchained as any needle-injected addict,
Beyond choice.

What hidden addictions were ever so omnipresent
Before this age of technological obsession?
Are we uniquely infected?

Is this new epidemic an interruption,
Or a harbinger?


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved



Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)