“Our Futility” my twenty eighth ekphrastic poem for National Poetry Month inspired by the fabulous art of Marcel Herms.

28 I am no longer from land (here to go)[26360]

 

Our Futility

must be striven towards
with all efforts of mind, bone and breath.

It mustn’t be resisted.
Futility builds, constructs, imagines.
This port of souls has many names,
or is nameless under the road sign:
Futility, pop. Varies but mostly zero.

I guess because futile feels like defeat.
Embrace defeat. What is left die with it.

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