Why Worry? Poem by Bengt O Björklund
Why Worry?
Talons of trepidation rip at soft dying skin,
at the very core of serene nihilistic sensibility,
whereas I, as it happened, moved within,
in a state of long lost train station tranquillity.
I wish I was a withering pagoda height,
without any thoughts of besieged tomorrow.
That way I wouldn’t face the cuckoo’s fight,
just someone you shouldn’t steal to follow.
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5/7/2024 12:04:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
