Bold faced fire.
A spark. Some grit.
When challenge comes,
Welcome it!

An occasion to rise to.
Peg forced to fit.
When challenge comes,
Tackle it!

A hill to climb.
Fire to be lit.
When challenge comes,
Conquer it!

When it seems too high in effort or risk,
And the burden it brings is like a ton of bricks,
It’s only your attitude that you need to fix!
When challenge comes, be bold! Be brisk!

And when doubt comes,
Challenge it!

Back then I feasted on new knowledge.
Devoured points of view.
And every little morsel was
Digested, through and through.

Back then I drank experience,
To feel, to see- again, to know.
And every tiny drop contained
A universe or so.

Now I’m drowning in disinterest.
Fearing feeling any fuller.
Exhaustion takes its turn with me,
Providing puffy, pitiful pallor.

Now I’m bloated with broad boredom.
My mind marinading in malaise.
Compulsion powers my forward steps,
Driving the dullness of all dreaded days.  

But now and then I get a taste of something,
Be it new, or an interesting spin.
Some experience or slice of fact
That awakens and pulls me in.

Now and then I remember the miracle
Found in each speck of dust.
The mysteries there
Of which we’re not yet aware,
And the tools to find them that we’ve come to trust.

But next I remember my conspecifics,
And how these things tend to go.
It’ll be insulted, ignored, or altogether twisted.
Deliberate blindness to what we don’t want to know.

Besides, desires are brief and fleeting things.
While grudges tend to last much longer.
Whatever new information that new knowledge may bring,
Be sure it will make the hate stronger.

So forget it!
Who needs it?
What purpose does it serve?
Let us live in the dark.
Maybe it’s what we deserve.

The open sky is beckoning.
It pulls, and I would follow where it leads.
But then a thought comes like a reckoning!
Isn’t it safer in captivity?

The white-capped waves crash and splash.
A ruddy hull they assault and thrash.
I hear the open ocean call to me.
But it’s much safer in captivity.

A hunger grows for open fields.
To have wildflowers under feet.
But the risks are what make minds reel.
You see it’s safer in captivity.

The stars shine down. Inviting exploration.
The newest frontier, planetary.
But I think I’ll stick around here at my station,
Because it’s so much safer in captivity.

Under the covers, with walls all around,
Is where I think I ought to be.
For though adventure calls, I know what’s really to be found,
And I know it’s safer in captivity.

I’ll take my meals in melancholy.
I like the light in there.

Feed me. Bleed me.
If you need me,
Listen and be sure to heed me.
I am not made of stardust.
I don’t know how I came to be here.

Put it down there, by the fire.
Wait. Where has the fire gone?

I’ll remain in melancholy.
The air is cool in here.

Fold me. Mold me.
Gently hold me.
Leave me where the bowler rolled me.
I am not made of sugar.
I am not made of spice.

It’s alright. I cannot need today.
Please leave the window cracked.

I like the scent in melancholy.
It persists, but does not intrude.

Scratch me. Scrape me.
Insinuate me.
******, maim, and mutilate me.
I am made of flesh?
The end is drawing near.

I’ll linger here in melancholy.
The sun is setting soon.

Perfection; great illusion.
Tell me is that where your demons dwell?
Are they in the garden, or the bottle,
Or some supreme personal hell?

Is flawlessness a virtue,
Or a distraction for the mind?
Is the appeal of the ideal
Truly a goal that’s so sublime?

Could a diamond be a paragon
Of what a body’s meant to be?
A texture unattainable,
Lacking relevance, ridiculously.

Do you seek the pure?
And can such a thing truly be real?
Beware the call of perfection,
For, in truth, there is no ideal.