And now I find myself
filled with derision
for every strand of thought
not in harmony with mine

While consciously aware
that with each passing moment,
albeit with diminishing vitriol,
I am derisive of my own past

But wouldn’t concessions,
no matter how intuitive,
be akin to succumbing to
the mediocrity that comes naturally?

And perhaps a war over axioms
is doomed until we realize
there is no all-knowing, all-powerful, all-present
but only us and our conversations


….then there are times, perhaps more
frequent now that I have been here a while,
when the hesitance to repeat is so consuming
that I forget about the wondrous sleight of language,
which is the tool and a reason;

and that the right things must be said endlessly,
there always being the need to say them
with no dearth of mouths espousing all
that’s wrong, evil and unnecessary.

Remembering and accepting this,
it all suddenly falls open and multitudes emerge,
the voices of yore, itching to be heard once again
in a different but befitting manner


I force myself to begin
and not consider the arduous path
that must be traversed before attaining
any semblance of joy

While constantly aware
that an easy fix lies a tab away
measured against which this effort
becomes vulnerable to feelings of disinclination

I fall prey easily and with increasing regularity
until the arduous path,
once a sufficient source of joy by itself,
is marked by so many instances of desertion

that its length and complexity increases
and turns it into something
unrecognizable of the form it belongs to
but well in sync with the world that affects it

Living in Wait

…and now as all noise abates
and the sunlight through the closed window
falls well on the white pages

and the warmth is not more than required
and the time of day incongruent
to food and sleep and friends

and now as each surrounding atom
aligns the way stars do
to signal the opportune moment to sail

I let the urge fill me completely and at its leisure
while thoughts of imminent productivity
beguile and deceive


What words do they have?
All together now, peering at faces
marked by years and distance

Not as easy as when this proximity
was familiar and desired and
possibilities were abound though insincere

Now left with only the vestiges as aids
to rediscover the urge that led to this
contrived point in time

They must begin again
though some might wonder at
the futility of an unnatural quest