When human minds begin to fray
And souls forget their tune
The ones who stand apart and judge
Believe they’re still immune.
But we’re all so bloody fragile,
Our thoughts can lose their form;
No soul beneath the turning sky
Can shelter from that storm.
Each person thinks they’ll never hear
The mind’s discordant tune,
Until the notes grow strange and sharp
Beneath a crooked moon.
And hubris, proud and rigid, breaks
When reason will not bend;
For every mind can lose its way,
And
Who is left to judge us in the end?
Hi Peter
How are you?
You expressed so much in few lines.
Jessy Jacob
I’m fine and thanks for asking.
This poem was prompted by a newspaper article about a woman who changed completely after menopause…..we are very fragile.
🙏