Nothing stays the same – seas rise, buildings fall
Babies are born and people die.
The rest run routines of comforting illusion
That if it’s not the way it was, it’s the way it should be.
But the uneasiness remains, floating above each day
No one really knows what part of their life
Might disappear without warning leaving only empty echoes
Being beloved is no shield, just an assurance of heartache.
Reasons why are unknowable and even so no consolation,
Unable to relieve the paralysis of uncertainty
But without choice everyone goes on carrying on their backs
The unceasing risk that it could all change tomorrow.
Note that this wasn't written in response to Poetry Thursday shutting down -- but it certainly is appropriate in a bittersweet sort of way.