Poem: Looking at the analog dial

Looking at the analog dial

Standing on the scale,
keeping balance,
taking a breath,
with hope.

And then a look down,
 at the analog dial,
  and seeing …

 

There’s something,
about the logic,
about the simplicity,
 just lessen one thing,
 and increase the other.
It makes sense,
  it’s not an opinion,
    it’s not dependent,
      it’s not subjective.

There’s something though,
 about the strange reality,
that this logic,
 doesn’t correctly answer,
  the math problem.

 

A fly on the lamp shade,
wipes its hands together,
and seems to be,
 putting one finger,
  across the other,
and casting blame.

But there on the frosted glass,
 is the silhouette of a moth,
and as its wings flutter,
 it sends a signal,
  like with flags,

that the fly is wrong,
and there is no blame,
and to keep climbing over the dune,
  because the oasis,
    is on the other side.

Looking at the analog dial.

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