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Wednesday, November 14, 2007

So stubborn, to ignore an exit plan.
So weak to need one.
Strength seems almost unobtainable.
An elaborate dream, never to be reached or fulfilled.
It seems ridiculous.
It seems like a mirage.

And like a fire that wouldn't start,
The logs simply sit there.
Awaiting their fate.
Unknowing,
Not caring.
What would become, were we to warn the logs of their fate?
If we told them that drying off would be the end of it all?
Would they take heed?
Or would they simply laugh it off?
No.
We don't listen.
So why would they?