You might have thought its batteries were flat,
but the drone of disillusion flies
at dusk
at dawn
at noon.
It would have you believe your life is a shred
of scattered margins around a collapsed centre
under an egg-shaped sun, and that reality
is an unreachable cobweb in the past;
don’t believe what that scam artist says.
Fill your worldscreen instead with wonders,
the greatest unfiltered astonishments:
the scorpion glowing blue under black light,
the platypus’ electrolocation,
the chrysalis of everything marvellous.
Published in The Honest Ulsterman
S.C. Flynn 