"Oh she was wild," they said,
"Careering along on her own course,
"Never looking back,
"Not even a stolen glance."
Did she have no regrets?
No qualms about the deeds-
The deeds and the misdeeds she'd done?
And as she sped forward,
Did she have no fear?
Did she not see
The nothingness beyond the horizon?
The place where were all headed.
Why does she race towards it?
And why with that joy upon her face,
Does she stare at it?
Unfazed, clear-sighted.
What is her secret?
The giant trick; this magic weapon?
You cannot ask her-
No answer has she ever given.
And so, "She was wild," they said.
"Light-footed, unfathomable."
As she sped away, we could only stare.
The end seemed near,
But she didn't care.
It was the journey
That she had set out to master,
It was the journey she lived;
The journey she mastered.
-j.t.
YOU ARE READING
The Chaos Inside.
PoetryAbsurd may be the tale I tell Ill-suited to the marching times I loved the lips from which it fell So let it stand among my rhymes -John Keats. It is difficult to get a hold of what's going on insid...
