Page 6 – The Cracked Door

03/05/26 A New Haiku for a New Day

Fly me to the moon.
Hand my hand and don’t let go.
Life will find a way.

Blast from the Past:

I close both my eyes
Because you can pierce through them
Right into my soul

A cute lil puppy
Climbing, jumping, and eating
In a pile of trash

Blast from the Past:

What is our vast wealth,
Our millions upon millions?
Piles of rotting figs

Sitting in the rain
Contemplating the meaning
Of nothing at all

Blast from the Past:

This world we have built
Here for ourselves is nothing
More than dust and yet…

Sleep sleep sleep
For some reason all my body seems to crave is
Sleep sleep sleep

Blast from the Past:

Why do the best laid
Daily plans go awry from
Little distractions

Oh to the quagmire
That is ethics when your world
Is built on empire

Blast from the Past:

Some are shrewd. Some rash.
All live and die in their place
For Heaven’s Mandate

Up up endless stairs
Under the merciless sun
Skin slippery from sweat

Blast from the Past:

On a boat tethered
With the full moon as the
Shadows dive on down

Falling in between
Unsupported, forgotten
Light shines through the cracks

Blast from the Past:

Even the outcast
Has dignity among the
Daisies in the field

Use your learning to
Get paid more for the same job
As everyone else

Blast from the Past:

Your education
Gives you the skills to realize
How dumb your boss is.

Given a weapon
Told to fulfill his “International Duty”
Tore villages to pieces
To return as pieces in a coffin
For a broken mother

Blast from the Past:

Killing the “bad guy”
As if only destruction
Will curb deviants.

Descartes’ quest to build
Truth from scratch falls back unto
Solipsistic sand.

Blast from the Past:

Socrates asks, “Who am I?”
Descartes asks, “Why am I?”
I ask, “What about we?”