“Physician, heal thyself,” they say.
The moments spiral out and on —
Another endless, twisted day,
With questions come, and answers gone —
And what are we but hope and sweat
Wrapped up tired, failing shells,
And what’s the difference, in the end?
For gain and loss are parallels
When there’s no argument to win,
And little point in speech or rant —
For though we try to lift the world,
We won’t, because we can’t