During an Interlude from the Mundane

The rough cracked undergrowth
doesn’t hurt much
now that a clearing has appeared
for a while

The water is familiar and beautiful,
a deep well of buried impulses;
I lie beside and take long draughts

I know the forest awaits,
but I am scared of the trees.
Can you distinguish amongst them?
Perhaps, that’s for the best.

I would be a fantastic tree,
yes I know and many say so
while others ask why I left the clearing
and why I shall again

The water tastes wonderful.
I’ve felt its power before and
made promises, taken vows
and I shall do so again – of course

I know you can’t help me keep them.
Solitude, here, is prized and cursed,
and like always, leaves me unsure.

If I May Say So…

I could give it a name,
the name corresponding to it,
but we don’t seem to do so anymore.

I may take the long way around,
come at it from all sides,
picking and prodding until
it lays tired, naked and defeated.

But realize it isn’t the same
as deliberate obscurantism,
as making language counter-productive,
for fear of well meant but ill directed labels.

Your modernity is regressing,
afraid of all it once despised,
stumbling over the morality
of things easily resolved by conscience.

Let’s all laugh once again,
without hesitance or shame,
at the dreariest of all despairs,
at the holiest of all doctrines….

and disregard the reproach
of those on whom the
importance of intention is lost.

The Consolation

Know that my feet are still kicking
and if you look hard enough
you might see my tired eyes
devouring frantically while they stay
above this surface below which lies
all I never wished to be accustomed to

I do return each night – kicking,
breaking through for a little while,
trying to not recognize the reluctance
that questions the pretense
of a self-regulated time bound struggle

I was told that I am
ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
always too afraid and uncertain,
forever invested in trivial concerns

Yet it is the recognition of these inclinations,
which make sense only in light of immortality,
that pushes me to prolong this experiment

Is there any consolation in defying ignorance,
only to acquire the knowledge of certain failure?

I have a feeling we’ll discover there is