Aren’t we all puzzles
to ourselves?
And as we delve,
as nature dictates,
into other souls,
as we stare into shards
of broken mirrors…
should not we,
in tracing beds of scars;
should not we, as we
choose stillness, seek
movement still?
The screams of the used,
these linger high, and higher
still than little joys,
but in the standing still,
if lie we find
seems easier than
the tearful truth,
might we choose still,
for courage’s strength,
to kill the very past
we’ve never left behind,
and go through here,
past stationary Now,
and follow change,
to a gentler place,
a growing pace?
Aren’t we all, if puzzles
still, yet just a choice
behind the keys
to gates that open out
to our hearts’ desires?
Yes, I do believe we are. This poem reminds me of a foreign film you should see. It’s English translation is: Love Me, If You Dare. It is quite silly and seems to follow your same logic, feelings:
And as we
delve,
as nature dictates,
into other souls,
or stare into shards of broken
mirrors,
Like a finger crossing the whole length of an old scar, forming the periphery of a puzzle piece…
hey.
i see you don’t wanna write no more. :)
your poem induces me to listen rather than read. it’s very slowness, the pacing makes me close my eyes and just let myself sink lower even without beer haze and cigarette fumes to help me drown. although your musings, well, they sound like muted swirlings BETWEEN beer hazes and cigarette fumes. :)
how much courage does it take to stand still and just feel? i do not think i will ever gain this momentum back so i keep on hurtling…would it be alright, to just…stop? and then start, slower, surer without the intoxication of not knowing where you’re headed?
and how much courage does it take to admit that we are pieces, that our puzzle is not yet complete, and might never be?
to find the flow
in stillness
thats the trick huh?
beautiful work. thanks for sharin it :)