On Pointless Introspection

On Pointless Introspection



I am an ostrich, hiding deep within myself,

My head submerged in murky moods,

Screaming in a vacuum.

No, not a vacuum, but a sound-proof room,

With walls of ten-foot stone,

A fortress,

Clammy, cold and, dimly lit,

That admits no sound,

But the monotonous percussion,

Of a heart that knows the one eternal truth:

We are born dying,

And every breath that we take,

Every beat of our heart,

Brings us one step closer,

To the grave.

It is easy to forget a world exists outside,

My diminutive cell when my teeth chatter,

Not from the absence of warmth,

But from the absence of meaning.

Perspective, perspective, perspective,

Echoes through my fruitless cell.

I am a foolish,

Ugly bird,

Cowardly bird,

But needlessly.

I heard a song today, a soothing melody,

Sung by an angel dressed in woman's clothes;

Oh, sing again, dear love, I had

Almost forgotten your sweet voice!

 

From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems (C) 2011