The best creations rise from deep within,
As truths may be elusive and obscure.
The poet tries to guess where life has been
And shows the reader how one can endure.
With sceptic’s ear and tongue, and open sense
One should create a feeling with control
And then to banish it and make it dance,
With tales and stories which you then enrol.
But poems may be loved or deeply feared,
Where words begin our stumble towards death;
We can’t refute them even though they’re jeered,
And let them float where they may teach and bless.
All past and present futures are as one,
Where software speaks, as life, when it is done.
© Joe Lake
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