We hunt for answers and understanding.
We hunt for reasons and logic.
We seek out places and people.

We hunt for someone that will know us - for someone that will see us as we hope to be.

To see the potential in us...

We seek to find a reason for the blue in the sky. For the hows and whys of magnets and electricity.

For the code that cracks the puzzle of DNA and god.

We hunt for acceptance. We hunt for a reason to get out of bed. We hunt for the perfect cup of coffee.

We seek out a hand to hold on a cold and wintery walk, a perfect fitting pair of gloves, and a place that we can call our own.

We hunt for humans.

We humans, hunt.

We hunt humans.

We seek and seek and seek, and then we die.

And those that we leave behind hunt for reasons why.

In a universe of options we are this.

In a universe of similarities and limited possible combinations of elements we are this.

In a universe of expanse beyond expanse we are this.

We are stars, millions of them - billions of them, trillions of them. colliding in us, vibrating at just the right speeds, humming our own celestial tune...

We are bits of bits. Tiny specks of information that collect, gather, assemble, amass and come to a point where the data set can be more than the bits.

Greater than the sum of the parts. Greater than the sum of these AMAZING parts...

it's not always easy to write to express to emote.

it's a struggle to be honest and open and direct.

Action

There is plot and filler
There is star and supporter
There is tragedy and vice

Comedy and farce

All within an instant

I pasted it into Microsoft Word.

Below is the result of that Copy and the Paste:  

It took my breath away when I saw it, and I wanted to share it with you.

Sometimes I look at what I write - and I see my optimism shining through.

And that is good.

And sometimes I set about to write, and something a little less sparkly comes out.

And that, also, is good

Do you know how hard it is to get that reflective metal look? 

On an iPhone?

During your lunch break?

I may never be a genius, nor a renowned poet for whom the critics cry....

But I am totally going to hang my hat on getting that metal look in this post!

Find a path in this that is your own......

Start with a line from one of the top three boxes.

Then go to one of the middle three boxes and select a line.

Finish with a selection from the bottom boxes.

The path is the poem, not the words... The path is the poet, not the writer.

What is said

is said

is said

is said

is said

and said again...

spiral of word and sentiment and thought and deed and power and control

(and the lack thereof

thereof

thereof

thereof

thereof

is not permission to be...)

the secret is in the circle, closed and safe

the secret is in the square, equal all sides

the secret is in the triangle, each side up.

the secret is in the unnamed shapes

swirl and swirl and never be defined

the secret is in the unnamed words

swirl and swirl and never be refined

Ugh..... Every time I read this I hate it more. This is exactly the type of crap that makes every one else on the plnet think that poetry sucks. I will leave it here as a reminder to all that just because you wrote it, doesn't mean that it has any worth...

So I made the smallest of changes to this - I think it's a total of 5 words that were changed, and - of course - the form... The form of the poem has changed the create appropriate flow and emphasis. So here is what I have done to try to undo the insipid tripe that I had originally posted:

So... Is it better? Yeah - I would say that it is better. By far.

Is it good? No. I don't think that you can polish dung and call it poetry. You can't say a bad string of words with JUST a few e.e. cummings tricks, but you can pretty it up enough that it can trick the eye into thinking it sees something that isn't there.

In this case, what isn't there is heart. It's a dispassionate piece of writing, and it has no goal. It isn't going anywhere, nor can it take you anywhere. It is aimless, and lost.

Sad, really.....

You are very kind.