Like the poets of old...

Author's note: The above is a lovely, pretty sky, don't you think? Pretty nondescript, though...

*

I love pretty skies

As much as

the next man, woman, or child

However, it's possible

To be too Too busy looking up

at perfect skies

To miss the ugly beauty

of the struggle beneath

The sun and the rain

Those excelling beyond belief

the latchkey kids

The privileged few

The Fight for Survival

Overlooked from business class

The alleyways were beggars

With a cap in hand or a plastic cup

While the one percent

Follow their lust and desire

The wretched and the miserable

Are neighbours to the glory

At best, you can hope

To toe the line

Between the two sides

The beauty and the dirt

The hope and the hopeless

The rock bottom sits

Beneath the mountain top of Fake Achievement

You're either the monkey

The clown, the lion

or the ringmaster

in this circus

Captains of industry

Captains of a sinking ship

Poets of old, tho not all

Those that mattered

That had something to say

About the horror around them

Died all the same

As will you and I

Whether you are Bezos or a beggar

Death awaits you

Death will welcome you

Death will unify you

So, yes...smell the roses

Appreciate the sunrises and sunsets

Live your best life

There are others

Better off

There are also those

Worse off

When you stop

And look to the sky

Remember the gutter

What could you do?

That

is

up

to

you

*

Thanks for reading!