Dual Verses – The Volatility of a Mind

Do you ever stop to wonder if our grandest delusions, our philosophy is not some fickle creature, swayed by the winds of our own minds?

I often think so. And that’s why today I offer up 2 sets of free verse. I dare not call it poetry, for it is but the ramblings of myself at a point in time. So please, don’t approach today’s post with any sort of rational analysis, for I’m not offering it, not today. Consider the origins of the poems. For the first poem, Free verse, composed on a train, the clock ticking by, as the assignment draws near.

For the second, scarred wonder amidst the scabs of today.

Read what you wish into the above verse. Perhaps I’m being overdrawn and theatrical. It happens when you write freely in under 10 minutes. Whatever. If my writing does wander by my mood, by whether I can taste the joy of the shining sun, or the refreshing cool blast of breeze on an evening walk, then forgive me if the above words are too poetic.

Some poems, for your consideration:

Light on the horizon

Man in the chrysalis

His eyes wide, his arms open to the world

Passion, hope, endless possibilities

Sun shining, radiant as paradise

Suffocated by illusions, the man looks at the horizon

How radiant, how radiant it gleams! He walks closer.

Ever closer, ever closer, but the horizon never nears.

Blinded by the dazzle, walk he does,

On and on, his bones turning to dust, his breath failing him.

Turning his head to the sun, he sees the horizon.

Here be a man who has walked and walked

Ever towards the false dawn of paradise, a horizon away,

Never to stop and soak in the sun where he stood

And now he stands, so far from where he started

So far from friends, family and joy

But he cannot weep, cannot repent and make amends,

For with that his breath dies.

There goes the man suffocated by illusions.

There go we, but for the choices we make.

—.

Over and Over

Scholar by the book, eyes dazed

Scholar by the dishes, the day long

Scholar at work, his eyes bleeding with monotony

Scholar in life, rarely a scholar

For here be someone climbing a mountain

An endless ‘to do’ list

Of effort and pain lies the continual step-step up the mountain

But of views and hills, what sight is there?

For is this not no mountain, but a concrete prison?

An anonymous city, its eyes open, yet blind

Its demands impersonal, implacable

Responsibility and duty laden with weight upon wearied shoulders.

But then, the sweetest sensations come flooding in

Hope, yes hope! Joy, oh joy, come to serenade us with wonder!

Friends, old acquaintances, give up their time to express interest in you

Concrete fading away, the call of the night with the moon shining

Achievement, accomplishment. Pride.

Shackles, self-imposed, falling from our own limbs.

Realisation, satisfaction – burning bright as the sun!

Behind the glamour of the illusion of our own responsibilities lies a golden mountain

With toil, reward. With struggle, joy.

With wonder, bliss.

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