I wrote a poem a few years ago.
It's called 'Reverberation'. I hope you have the mind to read it...
"Karmatic returnings. Eventual realization of what has already come to pass. Recurrences. Clockwork. That is what my life has felt like as of late.
I am realizing the patterns. I am trying to finally figure out the puzzles. Rubix cubes. Mysteries. Things that cannot be explained with simple explanations.
Wonderings of past wanderings, and seeing what's already been seen. I saw what was already saw. I fell where someone else fell. I feel what someone else felt. Anxiety. A consistent recurring anxiousness that churns and churns with constancy. It aches a familiar ache. A message I take and I take.
I am finally trying to realize how to control it. How to focus on it and try and pull it back around. Try to stop it's pinnacle whirling. It's shine from shining. It's glow from glowing. Whittershin its burn from burning. I am trying to stop it's turn from turning.
Time. Memories. Dreams of lost families. Structures magnificent now rot and are forgotten and ambiguous. Relationships once strong and passionate, are now dust with people who spoke lost languages. Religions forgotten. Are their God's not still living? Or are they dust in the earth because there lie the ones who believed in them? As with vision we see, so a cosmic fatality.
That is how it is perceived by me you see.
That is how I've come to realize reality. An hourglass.
Into matter came formed a something from a nothing. Realisation. A spark. A light from a dark. The first mark on the color spectrum chart. The first element of the periodic table. The first thing to grow. The first breath ever taken. The first thing to be eaten. The first thing to sleep then to awaken. Reverberation. The first thing to cry. The first thing to wonder. The first thing to die. Again and again.
As things change the only thing that ever stays the same is that everything goes away. You will always purvey what has already been led, because a spoken language leaves nothing worth saying that hasn't already been said. Nothing is new, it has always been. It has been circling forever, and that's what it will continue to do. "What is it", you ask? Every day you will continue to brew and to stew. Until you are no more. Until you are what you've left behind for others to view. You will always endure until no one can remember, and you cease to finally be you. Hopefully, you say something worth saying, or you do something someone else can renew. Before you're left wondering, what am I here for? The key is to realize it before you are through. The point is to do what you were put here to do. The answer is to seek inner love; be able to look at the person in the mirror and tell not someone else, but yourself, "I love you"."
