What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire

 

I write poetry, worry, smile, 

laugh 

sleep 

continue for a while 

just like most of us 

just like all of us; 

sometimes I want to hug all 

Mankind on earth 

and say, 

god damn all this that they’ve brought down 

upon us, 

we are brave and good 

even though we are selfish 

and kill each other and 

kill ourselves, 

we are the people 

born to kill and die and weep in dark rooms 

and love in dark rooms, 

and wait, and 

wait and wait and wait. 

we are the people. 

we are nothing 

more.

Charles Bukowski