Facing The Flood

I attempt resuscitation

Each day from this drifting dream

Of impending apocalypse.

Or has the flood already covered us?

The wave surges with weighty force

Beyond my strength to move forward against the tide.

 Am I standing still, still standing, or rolling

amidst the normal chaos that envelopes all of my activities?

How do I know the difference?

I must plant my sword in the earth, hold steady

and get my head out of the current

maybe find a landmark or two for bearings.

Maybe some other faces clearing

The waterline, swords planted like plow shares

against the constant stream of getting things done.

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