How to source values of care

from invisible currencies?

we hold onto our selves, yes

we hold onto each other, yes

but that which we seek 

hunger

long for

eludes

evades our sorry grasp

the seeking

the grasping 

all emptying

pouring us into hollow spaces

between the cracks

of smiles

toasts

and handshakes

where other things

like values

like care

become

invisible

how to value the empty?

the hollow?

the fallen mind?

how to value wisdom

when it will not

form itself

into something

graspable

how to trust the 

wise way

when it insists

on being

no way

in the way

way-less

leaving us 

waylaid

on the side

of the straight road

where masses

march towards 

a destination

noone has actually seen

(only heard tell)

and no-one can remember

its exact location

(if it ever had one)

and what is even there 

is long forgotten

but...the march continues

nonetheless

towards awards, rewards

filled pockets 

endlessly emptying

while quietly

invisibly

the wise ones

hold out their

begging bowl

begging for lost coins...

love

(is it real?)

solidarity

(who dares?)

a tiny coin of care

(have you seen one?)

the wise ones

are silent

(do we hear?)