An action for an action.
A movement for the flow.
A journey for the tale,
Weaving lies for the woe.
An adventure for the unknown.
Rash decisions abide,
Through the dash of the danger,
Soon one will die.
Grasping for the breath.
Holding onto what wants clench the living.
Attempting to change the impossible,
As the crack of all things shatters once and for all.
So may blurs flash by of the things once known. They seemed to be cherished in a matter of an urgency to stay; like anything else in this world. They loom over one like the ideas of the multiple journeys in the unexpected universe. Forever the grip on them one holds; for the tugging instinct bares the truth the wrinkled hand of time cannot face. Will not face. Swiftly, the truth goes away in the blink of an eye as the lies that consume the free begin to take hold. Rejection and guilt of the "could have 's" and"would have's" cannot be so easily challenged. How the melancholy desires to punish these actions the mind thinks it can understand. The blinded think they can change and mend the rigid cracks of the broken. The damage is done when shatters cannot make a whole again.
Traveling across the what the mighty think that is theirs. Arriving at the destination loathed by the great. Reflecting the desires of what the future wants to be for those who try. A stillness a lines the air. It waits and lingers and even creeps into the very thing that keeps ones sanity. Paranoia it causes. Fools it causes. For the ones who have reflected all of the options and still not wish lie still in the great murky pool of clouded delusions. The thing one would like to hear most of all will not abide in the grasp of the ever changing stretches of the ever changing decisions. Not yet. Not until the final change could lead to something disastrous.
The lonely days seem to stretch on and on with the dignity that spreads through the life around. Feelings become muddled. Slowly with each pass complication the shadow that lurks right near stretches away with grace. It elongates until its reach becomes variably visible. Soon everything becomes consumed what the shadow possessed. Now, as the cold begins to entrap everything around it the peace can finally see the heavens give birth to a beauty that joins all other things its enjoyment. One can stare as the feeling of the shadow, soft and complex, consumes one with pleasure. Feeling become easy. Peace becomes easy. For the one subtle moment when everything was at rest in the night everything just was. No worries. Just beauty at the hand of of what gets ignored.
Seeing beauty that is already there.
Just is.
No complications through the rise of disgust.
Nothing gets ignored because of time.
IT just happens.
The heavens peak onto the shadows.
Just is.
Seeing through the lies told,
just is;
Putting in the effort to see is hard.
Giving gifts as the expense of others and seeing what they mean in not their credentials,
just is.
Wishing for simplicity is to look through all of the emotions humans have spread to others. It is to see what is already there. See the "Just is " factors of life.
YOU ARE READING
Wishing for the Unforeseen
PoetryNo matter what's thought, poetry makes people think and thinking does something. It creates new horizons for anybody who just listens to the fluttering wings of thoughts. The thumping, and the feeling of the amazing. The wondrous flight of the new w...
