Universal truths and certainty,
There is always a canon, a law.
And ever
Separate are the Holy,
That is their virtue.
But the cosmic circumstance,
The Universal plan?
The wilderness and the voices?
All in line with their books.
There is an arch and a Bishop
A world of believers,
And condemned unbelievers.
The science and the spirit,
The Galactic and the Quanta.
The village and the crowd,
The pocket in the shroud.
Kindness is King
Love and understanding.
Everything else is imperfect.

Written in response to the word "Imperfect" on #introtopoetry

©2019 Christopher Thompson All rights reserved.


Where on the ridge of life
Do we dwell?
Desert people speaking loudly of God,
Corner the world for someone else.
And jungle men waiting for love
Are living free with their wonderful life.

Where on Earth have
The rest of us been?
Us mere Earthlings.
This solitary spec teeming and alive
In the Heliosphere.
Do we drift through the Cosmos,
Like Galactic Hobos?
No place ever like home,
We are the spinners
All of a Zero.
We know what is best,
Don't we?

©2019 Christopher Thompson All rights reserved

Written in response to “Landscape” on #introtopoetry