poem

Unexplained – Randy Sabatelli

It began snowing as he wrote..
In the gray room, he felt relaxed,
singular; though no one, of course,
should ever trust these moods..

There had to be an ‘understanding’
to matters. And yet, why? Because
that’s people want, understanding,
reason. No mysteries,- nothing unclear,
uncertain.. But mystery is the bulk of it,
of us- life, love, tragedy.. and none arrive
in, or as, lengthy position papers, fine-tuned
declarations, edited, fact-checked manifestos.

They simply appear, emerge, in darkness, or
light, and likely, leave the same way, unexplained.

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