THE WORLD DOES NOT END

by

nga Lulian KODRA

I break my routine with a machine
But the machine is routinely broken.

I bake my cake and all it takes
With no sugar that’s fake:
As I’m made by the creator
I make and remake scenes from old movies,
Shots of spring rain, summer dust,
autumn leaves and winter boughs
under snowflakes.

I break my routine with a machine
But the machine is routinely broken.

I am caught in a web of rhymes.
A bell that chimes away,
A dozen dusty dimes that spin astray,
Telltale of our sweaty fathers
In dust and hay as they encounter blood.
And from blood they make us
And to blood they pray.

I break my routine with a machine
But the machine is routinely broken.

Unspoken histories out of History churning
In a second’s hand turning and telling
The untold for, the uncalled for.
The suffering and greed
On the brink of the abyss.
Life on the brink of this and that ruin
As it cries for more… more… more.

I break my routine with a machine
But the machine is routinely broken.

And somewhere there
We’ve overcome the Overmen
And the comic book men
And the stuffed men and the hollow men.
But the world does not end
The world does not end.
The world does not end.

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