All the same, then

0

Preachers in their revered outfits—
Talkers roam the streets,
push the wind
when wind
becomes more wind,
and wind become words.
Some dare even
to blow their own:
witness, platitudes in
playing fields; soaked
by the scorching heat.
Many are dazed
hypnotized, even:
the newly-blown winds
sweep over their
drenched spirits.
Change
is coming.
The winds
blow even harder.
Destitution
becomes fertile land
for the road less trodden.
It is here
that the winds blew forth
a new hope, a new glimmer
a new light—
That shone on them
like the last ever did.
It was then that
they shrugged off
put everything to chance,
and sighed,
“all the same, then.”

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