Peace* Ll Poem by Morgan Michaels

Peace. Desireable
Yet by definition, brief
And within itself containing
Seeds of its own dissolution,
Some fresh contention, as always, it disrupting.
There's no perfect accord, it seems, nor should there be:
Imagining there is- dream on-
Folly usually pushing its own interests to fore.
There is only lovely compromise,
The other name for Hope.
Differences rule the world
Engining change. Anyway, what would we do with it, Peace?
How would we know it?
So accidental, So unfamiliar, and variably defined?

Hola. Staying the same, one changes soon enough-
Changing, one stays the same;
Embracing it, one rejects,
And rejecting, one embraces-
All an illusion, for which a metaphysics need be invented.
Only a thing well done justifies the world.

So that's become my motto-
A compromise for each infraction
(if an infraction for every compromise)
Let it inform the coming times:
Everything changes, stays the same,
All in a breath.

Then, blink on, blue green pine tree, or don't.
If I want you to, you won't.
If I don't, you will.
I'm indifferent, and for the day
Splendidly content.