Odd World

We are in an odd world.

I itch to smile at its colors

But some days they are blurred;

Mixing together, smearing mud

Across a body we experience

Then escape once—

Not more, only once,

But for now the assortment of shades

And hues are beyond our control

While we stay.

Perhaps it's how it's meant to be—

A striking display, 

Appealing one day

But grotesque after steps are taken.

Maybe it's okay to walk backward

To recall the familiarity—holding off

What is unknown and unseen.

But the odd world won't wait forever

So at some point we must walk.

Even if mud stains our clothes.