Sunday, January 15, 2017

Resting in the Embers

Resting in the Embers
I’ve grown tired of this introspection
This circumspection
A rambling on about emptiness
Seeing everything
Feeling nothing
Putting it all down on paper
Wanting to crinkle it all up
Throw it all away
Yet the digital age holds on to everything
So it seems I can’t let anything go myself
Thoughts placed here in the memory banks
Blitzing through the silicon
Making way through the binary codes
A million decisions at a time
All of them seemingly ineffective
Or maybe even just plain wrong
I’ve heard I get to decide the path I’m going
I’ve heard I get to fight on until the end
Yet it seems to me there truly is a game
That never names me as a friend
That always sees me as an enemy
A botulism
That takes all their power away
So stay away
Stay far away
From this land of milk and honey
I drone on
Like a honeybee drunk on vesuvial cyanide
Making up words that don’t even exist
Simply to fit into the rhythm,
The meter, the beat, the blinding heat
That makes all else just meaningless apparition
My god, I never knew such deep ambitions
Could lead one to such a dark and quiet meadow
I’m told to hold on, I’m told to let go
To the point where my sagittal suture is splitting
The time it ticks, and keeps on ticking
Yet I don’t own the newest Apple watch
So I drift out into the sea
Never to be heard from or seen again
There I go, there I go again
Turning all of this vitriol into all about me
It’s no wonder I drift out onto the open sea
With nary a life raft to help me
I wonder how long it will take me to sink
I wonder more who will even notice to miss me
Time for another drink
Time for another still
Time for another evaluation of my will
To see if I have what it takes to simply get off of this couch
And plant my feet onto the carpet rug
I am pushed, I am pulled, I am torn, I am tugged
By these millions of mere distractions
My hope, my will, my faith, my actions
Are all upon the judgment stand
I open my heart, I lift my hand
I place it all on this paper of an altar
I watch it burn
Only what is beautiful will stand
All I see are dying silhouettes of grave clothes
Drifting through the night skies
I often wish I had closed my eyes
To these things that seem to blind me
I look back to the fire that is ember now
I see a faint glimpse of beauty
That I have not ever seen before
I see a coal, an open door

That rests inside the embers

No comments:

Post a Comment