Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Path of the Cobra 3/12/2008

I was born to be afraid
afraid of what I might become
cloak of entitlement shrowds
my diffident psyche
A mirror cracked in line
with a nose and a left eye
symbolism not lost on this
defining moment becoming present
glancing back to see a fractured figure
of what I may already be, or was
I am hoping for the latter
But realize my destiny is paved before me
Like a snow flakes enevitable journey to the sea
or a living bodies constant decay to nothingness
I unconsciously perform my duty
and as the world slows back down
I see my work before me
I am niether proud nor ashamed
I feel no guilt or remorse,
no elation or joy
I don't think I feel at all
I walk like an invinceble god
through the carnage to a place that looks calm
I sit cross legged
heartbeat steady

And wait for my savior

Thumping blood in my neck
the only sound I hear...or maybe just feel
No I don't feel
I hear the blood thump, that is all
The thumping slows in pace and depth
My savior arrives just in time
I still feel nothing as he asks for my hand
I will go with him,
destination unknown
to me.

I feel nothing,
I want to feel something
on this earth
all dreams don't come true.

diffident \DIF-uh-dunt; -dent\, adjective:
1. Lacking self-confidence; distrustful of one's own powers; timid; bashful.
2. Characterized by modest reserve; unassertive.

*Written on a plane after reading about the college shooting and suicide. Remember people, these are just stories. Life is not all poems about rose pedals and smiling donkeys.

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