poems
dreams
books
Two Old Friends
One says he must sell all his time to others
or he is lost to boredom.
The other says he will never again know pure joy.
How is it possible?
I could never say these things—or believe them.
I would trade all to be one for whom these things were inconceivable.
I have done.
The false can feel true,
as when one person thinks they know, understand another,
and yet...the cost of correct behavior to experiential density!
I overvalue my affiliates.
No one else is responsible for my memories.
All poems are written and copyrighted by M. C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.