Poet at the Edge…
History doesn’t round off the corners, it sharpens them,
and we get caught by the shirtsleeve every time.
Observers are not docile though they don’t appear awake.
It’s a misguided notion to believe observers never act.
Observers they may be, but not bystanders, not hapless pedestrians,
but there is a contingent out there that believes this, that knows this
to be true, and is betting on the drowsiness of every observer.
The contingent is working night and day, non-stop, in its dogged
way to complete its mission, accomplish its goal, it is the kind of
machine that recoils at failure and will not spare its young or its legions
when an opportunity is missed, when a deadline is unmet.
Their blindness is observers know the contingent is there
even when they can’t be seen, can’t be found in plain sight.
Observers don’t have regard for conspiracy theories, they know
View original post 49 more words