It seems that we need them both to see each other’s point of view.

Thanks for your considered comment.
I only put the political line in to highlight the point that one exists because of the other.
My politics are on the left because that’s where I see less selfishness but in truth there is only a bees dick between most political parties.
Business runs the show.

And on a whim.
I think I like you 😜

Now that is a thought. No distractions other than living your life. Very, very simple life

What I write! And done on the toilet! Lol
This is quite the masterpiece. I enjoyed all the back and forth. Like reading a tennis match.
Caveman vs the 21st century.
Well done!

Loved the ending!

I am somewhat jealous; my toilet poetry is usually flushed because of the brown streaks. You write of the ying and yang of individualism, the brown streaks versus what once was. We humans have lost touch with our origins. We once made cave art, danced and howled at the moon; where it was women who ruled the campfires. And in some ways, we were more intelligent than we are today. We could talk to animals and create myths about the formations in stars. We will never get back to this, but I do think we can create a society where we once again talk to animals and reach for the stars.

Your poem is thought-provoking and appreciated. Thanks for the share.
-Curt/redzone

Emma, this is a well narrated story of the history of your writer’s life where college took you. This glimpse into the past was quite stimulating to read. I loved how the life events unfolded and reading this story that felt like an entry for a memoir.

John

Many thanks, you found the thread running through time and kindly accepted the truth of my words. There is a future to come but with pauses for self reflection. More than that, I don’t know yet! Patience or adventure!?

I just found this… Oh! You write, such indigo between lines.

weirdly, this reminds me of someone that i used to love, from afar.

Aww. The way you feel about her as a sacred and heavenly is beautiful

Your beautiful and tender ode to la luna is much needed and appreciated by these weary eyes. To sit out late at night beneath her pallid light while the world goes on oblivious, is true poetic medicine. I praise your use of, welkin, something mystical about that word. Gorgeous write, my friend.

Clay