Often Times Poem by Mark Heathcote

Often-times
Searching for truffles like pigs with their snout
We're wondering what it is all about.
Often-times
I'm praying lord, hear my call
Just like any other beast behind the abattoir wall.

Often-times
We're left clinging to a thread
Wishing we were never born, that we were dead
Often-times
We look back and are thankful for what little we had
Trying to recall how once we were always glad.

Often-times
Love is a fake timepiece keeping track of an echo…
A residual moment that happened a long, long time ago
Often-times
We move around each other in concentric circles
Never accounting for a moment of convergence.

Often-times
The second hand once racing has now gone digital
It's frozen and is no longer observable or reciprocal
Often-times
Hours and hours pass without any recognition
Yet, awkward minutes open into the Spanish Inquisition.

Often-times
Searching for truffles like pigs with their snout
I too am left wondering what it is all about.
Often-times
Often-times.