The Sharp Edge of Life's Knife

There's a stab. There's a catch. There's a tear, a rip, a flash.

A breath, short and sweet.

There's a mad, glad, horrible fad.

Followed by the restlessness of humanity.

A glimpse at calm, peace, happiness. A glimpse.

Rightfully squashed under the weight of pettiness,

under the weight of desire.

Followed by a wish for new, but better.

Because humanity can't contain itself.

The absurdity of consciousness.

The ability to perceive the world with memory

of how things should have been

or how we want to remember them.

Even if that memory is based squarely around

us wanting things to be worse

to live in our suffering, our pain

for a little bit longer.

And we do,

because our suffering makes us real.

It makes us feel.

Real.

So stab again. One more time.

For good measure.

For something,

Real.

-Dustin S. Stover