I’ve grown tired
Of the present state in which I dabble,
Still stuck to a saddle
I’ve long wished to rattle.
And now it dawns upon me,
The lifeless grit of my humanity,
An unearthly mix of philosophy and chemistry,
A long forgotten dream of novelty,
An unending feel of necessity
To which I clung in utter poverty.
What is this you ask of me?
A fleeting pain decided arbitrarily?
I do remember you vaguely,
Having lied to you scarcely
At my own leisure and inadequacy,
To kill the one you were becoming so fiercely.
I couldn’t even lift a pebble
To cast out your inner rebel,
Rising like a champion to a whole another level,
So I retreated incontinently from the ensuing battle.
The forge in which I was built
Now blown to smithereens by a feeling of guilt,
And the intricate mechanisms I’ve since adored
Are nothing but a pile of rubble at my spiritual front door,
Because that of which we cannot see
Has been laid to rest above the canopy.
You can read another poem of mine at this link. Thanks so much.