quiet at the fifth

I am not irrelevant but I have no say
Life treats me like a fray
It slithers down my spine ice-cold
A cheek to be so bold

Like wind purges foliage off a tree
Your voice strips my soul from me
Raging in its force, shaking determinedly
A piece of wood without a fire I cannot be

Stormy clouds race north to south,
across the sky
Sunlight is your makeup, 
impermanence your high
Everyday you tell me that nothing stays the same
You are the background,
the thoughts I try to tame

Incubated into a form whose shape has adopted me
Parents, people, prophets, telling me who I should be
Unique my spirit lies within the egg of cause
A shape the universe has used with great applause
Behind the shell an artist draws,
a never-ending picture free of any laws

A hunger gnaws to make it work
that concept called the ‘living bit’
To find a way and have my say
without this lifelong thought-delay
And bring about a wonder-hit
Board that private pleasure-trip
A knowledge in the egg was heard.

Thinking, waiting, spellbound by time
An echo from the shell I hear
The caller only I can be
It’s not the answer,
so I think
To thought and waiting I return again
An echo from the shell I hear
Around in rhyme in time I be

Life, ever partially in some control
I’d be a liar claiming it's on a roll
or thinking that I have it taped
It blows with gale and sleeps with the wind
A male drugged by a penchant for the scind

Opposing forces and extremes attract
The teaching is amok, it is a fact
Eyes squinting through a frame and tint
find written on my comets trail a goal
and where I stand
in the context of the whole

Dreams, the unhatched eggs
Soul food as they nourish me
A potential waiting for the crack and light
Mostly they define past my reality,
and let me write
Unhatched hatching eggs with fantasy

Upright in the chair of thought
a string of time some questions brought
Five moments later as my breath abates
the quiet mind with picture waits.
  Underneath a story reads:
    Vision: hot air for the thought-balloon.
    Imagination: the ladder to the moon.
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One thought on “quiet at the fifth

  1. idoniforder says:

    Great poem! Something we can all relate to.

    Like

Beat the drum :-)

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