Poetry written, here and there, throughout the year 2016 CE.
An “interesting” year, you might say…
You are standing, statuesque, with no conception
of how strong your place here, within
the Spirit of the Age, has actually become.
How can you go in any direction, choose one
and be right every time, a way so thin,
to all, and me, but the right one, reception
being ready and fine and forthcoming
no matter where you turn. I watch on,
turning everywhere to become a fraction
of what you were since the beginning.
“Euthymic and un-cooperative”
What would such a woman be?
Would she be anything one
Might recognise as a Type A/B/C/etc
Personality? Is she simply one
Level above everyone else? High,
With lofty ambition and little care?
Little care for anything, for anyone,
For herself; the openings close, she
Tightens her resolve to never pawn
Her secrets to the men in white
Exposing the biggest lie – that there
Is nothing there for them to see. Case-
Closed, to one side. See you soon.
On a windy day, things occasionally get interesting;
they can uproot fears latent
within and cast them aside
like excess baggage, stripping
the weight of continuance till
finally free. A bruise or a
broken heart is (barely/from time to time)
worth the chance.
On a still day, things often reach a compromise.
The sky opening, resigning, to
peace. Staying in one place,
one can fnd peace. For a while.
Until something stirs within, quietly
insisting on its existence, slowly
but surely, commanding, increasingly,
naggingly, emphatically, demanding
attention. This demand, for once,
cannot be resolved with peace.