Today, I’ve been challenged to write a poem emphasizing the power of if. I wrote a poem so-titled last September (read it here). This is different. It’s less personal – more philosophical and asks a lot of questions.
The Possibles (of Impossible Ifs)
If lives were perfect, would they be?
If not for night, would we know day?
Does pain delight then go away?
To live forever, would be okay?
Abraham would be a joke, see
Joan of Arc would be alive.
If life was perfect, would I survive?
What if I were you, and you were me?
What if we felt neither sad nor woe?
Where the hell would happy go?
If this might be, could you vote yes or no?
Or do banal waters float your boat?
Everything is possible. If that, why so?
Would perfect make me want to go?
In a perfect world show, what is not?
If the answer’s here. I want to know.
Leave the gaps. Let’s not be saps,
When we die, they’ll still play Taps.
There’s something here, I clearly see,
This imperfect world is alright with me.
© Bill Reynolds, 4/6/2019
Look both ways, imagined and real.
Mind gaps you see, for honest sex appeal.
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