Convergence

None of this will sooner be fixed
Unless there’s some convergence,
Some commonality of purpose
Across all the eight divides:
Politicians,
Protesters,
Conglomerates,
Educators,
Scientists, and
Cause celebres,
Artists in their artists’ beds;
Capitalists in their
Marxist sheds;
Royalists,
Republicans dead,
Leaders and followers,
Families and a hermitage;
Straddling the global
And ego-moribund purpose
Of the macrobiotic;
The squalid and the divine,
The sanctimonious and the suppressed
Within my squid-like mind.

I want my flint spark find
To be returned,
Folded into my soul,
To undo all this time.

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