Mother’s Milk

To love and be loved

What a strange idea

The chicken and egg

Neither knowing the other

But being both

As time is not real

Only a quantum construction

I am beset on all sides

For that which I can’t mention

I’ve fought and thrown stones

But all I really wanted

Was to be left alone

To be stoned

Left for vultures

For then I could prove

One, or the other, as true

But as it is, I heed not this

Because now I see

What it means to be

And not just me

But us and them

Forever in equanimity

Facing oblivion

Exile turned exhortation

To never give up, never abandon

The best of what could be

Burnt and forgotten

The rest isn’t that at all

Just mindless apathy

The season for the fall

Mother’s Milk‘ 16×20″ oil on canvas by Mancel T. Lindsey

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