Sunday, 7 April 2013

A Short Poem. Not a short story, but yesterday's was really long. Enjoy!

Look at the rush we’re in.
Not going anywhere. Pushing through as quickly as possible to reach what?
The surface? So we can breathe.
Breathe what? More wasted time.

A man stands alone unless he is with others. But the others have too much influence on his posture.
Women too.
Sometimes I forget to include them.
Because I forget that we’re supposed to be different.

I have no hold. There once was a grip, but something told me to let go.
I did. And now I am floating. Not falling.
I float, not moving, and I get to see every angle of my perspective.
It gives me nothing. A better sense of what I see isn’t what everyone else sees.
It’s still just me. And I need to let go of me. But.
I have no hold.

Dreams, the stuff of the unknown, abstract is the explanation.
The explanations have no hold either.