I came home with a bucket,carrying refilled popcorn;
at midnight after watching a film full of
meaningless gore and murder.
The night was silent.
A solemn bird sings itslef to sleep,
and crickets fill its void.
Before entering my home,
I look up.
The sky is ever clear.
A ripple-less lake,
surpassing my view.
I understand the creators of the film.
However, I could not fathom a thought such as that.
How is one not more intrigued by the shining stars
and dewy grass than in murder?
I wonder.
I am certain I could conceive a thought,
such as those I faced.
But how could I?
There is an infinite world to admire.
A decision, maybe.
A moral weighed on a balance,
against a thought,
with potential to become.
$title =
A Popcorn Bucket
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