I wrote this poem so long ago I forgot about it until I opened the file tonight. It’s not my usual inspiring tone, but expresses the difficulty I’ve always had with the brokenness seen in so much of the world, and captures the disillusionment that defined much of my youth.
I chose this photo as a reminder that we are but one planet in a universe of universes, and within each person is another universe. Each thought spirals into the next.
Even from disillusionment, inspiration can be born.
Photo courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech
Puddles of Life
Tired more often than not
Burning unenthusiastically to ashes
Staring vacantly past you
Past the thing you think I’m staring at
Into the confucktion of life
White static of broken words
Singing themselves together and apart
Making awkward people shapes
That stare into the ground
Looking for themselves
Touch me if you can see
Through the lie of “reality”
Between walls and in the trees
Why do some people not listen
To loud blasts of wind?
Making motions of participation
Slipping beyond intangible rules
Acting on choice, chance and want
Behind a thick haze of smoke
In layers of lazy politics
Shiny plate of gourmet options
Suffocating beneath oil and money
Smothering under the fast talk of fools
Going nowhere in lopsided circles
Mach three on cruise control
Where did reason get off?
Spinning the marry-go-round at speed
Grinning wider and choking on greed
Logic must have eaten sand
And stumbled off the playground
So I wonder aimlessly forward
Asking where ignorance can be forgiven
Searching why in smallish dark corners
Pushing aside the ticking things
That pretend not to exist
Waste is shown in calculation
Stopping at no imaginary boundaries
Cutting sharp into forests and flesh
Metal and garbage standing in sculptures
That mock the human race
Black and brown molasses time
Stuck in memos of power and war
Protesting the general mess of it all
Feel too far removed
To make a sound in that world
Rolled in too-thin parchment
Choking on dreams of uncertainty
Standing inside myself
I look outward with narrowed eyes
Focused deep within puddles of life
Original poem by Katrina Ariel
So, yeah. A little heavy, but some honest soul-searching in this poem. The good news is I’ve learned to look past much of this, but I like the word play in this piece, and some of it still rings true. I’d love to hear your thoughts as well.
Thanks for reading!
Peace. @katrina-ariel
Author bio: Katrina Ariel is an old-soul rebel, musician, tree-hugging yogini, and mama bear to twins. Author of Yoga for Dragon Riders (non-fiction) and Wild Horse Heart (romance), she's another free-spirit swimming in the ocean of Steemit.
dragon art: Liiga Smilshkalne
Banner by @PegasusPhysics
Banner by @bearone
