Apr 2020
Flying around all the time has its natural implications. Shielded from trifle’s and indignities that could make one ennui. Now, I’m on ground and my stance seem unstable, positively pleading not to turn skyward.
I’m meant to endure or perhaps embrace it all from both vantage point. The ground seems frantic, distressing, deafening, and I’ve avoided it neatly for so long—
the firework’s and funeral’s. . .
I’ve always felt early on that wherever I am, amidst chaos, calamities, God and I will always have this strange privacy. A delirious quality that has kept me geared for battle.
Today, I am terrified— interestingly,
a great show of cordiality.
A sense of newness quietly furnishing my immediate sphere.
Avoidance, elusiveness, does not heed to my soul’s manner of being. I must love forcefully through hysterics, endure or perhaps surrender to hurricane’s when I can no longer prosper, even if my heart reside’s in decrepitude, alas, I must tread carefully, banishing all fear or perhaps in spite of it— whilst also embracing the despairity of it all, for it’s in the knowing that one is without the other.
My life’s duality is an imagined reality I have constructed to feel invisible, thus I have become invisible to the world and my ambitions. A color-blind chameleon.
In fear of what?
No one is trying to fright me but my own chatter, this morose prattle teetering from one interlocutor to the other, as if I’m running away from something only to find—-I’m singularly trying to decipher my mind’s meander.
Sit me alongside a tree, on a bench, swallowing the noiseless repetitive air of a shy afternoon— I’d be joyous.
I don’t need much and perhaps this dire needlessness has kept me restless.
Always searching for something grand to arouse my spirit ‘cause if not this relentless truth that surfaces frankly, violently, everyday that life is indeed blissfully pointless—
will be quite persistent in its attempt to build a cathedral within the halls of my mind. Provoking a cacophony of musings through courtship.
So I nest. I refuse to surrender the attributes of the wind.
I’m meant to endure or perhaps embrace it all from both vantage point. The ground seems frantic, distressing, deafening, and I’ve avoided it neatly for so long—
the firework’s and funeral’s. . .
I’ve always felt early on that wherever I am, amidst chaos, calamities, God and I will always have this strange privacy. A delirious quality that has kept me geared for battle.
Today, I am terrified— interestingly,
a great show of cordiality.
A sense of newness quietly furnishing my immediate sphere.
Avoidance, elusiveness, does not heed to my soul’s manner of being. I must love forcefully through hysterics, endure or perhaps surrender to hurricane’s when I can no longer prosper, even if my heart reside’s in decrepitude, alas, I must tread carefully, banishing all fear or perhaps in spite of it— whilst also embracing the despairity of it all, for it’s in the knowing that one is without the other.
My life’s duality is an imagined reality I have constructed to feel invisible, thus I have become invisible to the world and my ambitions. A color-blind chameleon.
In fear of what?
No one is trying to fright me but my own chatter, this morose prattle teetering from one interlocutor to the other, as if I’m running away from something only to find—-I’m singularly trying to decipher my mind’s meander.
Sit me alongside a tree, on a bench, swallowing the noiseless repetitive air of a shy afternoon— I’d be joyous.
I don’t need much and perhaps this dire needlessness has kept me restless.
Always searching for something grand to arouse my spirit ‘cause if not this relentless truth that surfaces frankly, violently, everyday that life is indeed blissfully pointless—
will be quite persistent in its attempt to build a cathedral within the halls of my mind. Provoking a cacophony of musings through courtship.
So I nest. I refuse to surrender the attributes of the wind.
