Made a mess everywhere reflecting the mess in
my head, I want to be happy without escaping
into a book, want to stay in the present and it's
hard, reality is scary, without illusions only the
world's steel outline is left
I haven't created new visions to replace childish
ideas, my choices leave no space for innovation;
did I choose to be so incommunicado or was it a
side-effect of other things, why do I have to feel
awkward and self-conscious when dealing with
Too-kind or boring, bigoted people, how to be
satisfied researching subtle differences in terms,
when shall a quiet happiness pervade my life and
keep flowing even when facing challenges I don't
understand, when shall peace keep me safe
From dark thoughts, when shall all my fears be
unmasked as chimeras, when shall my thoughts
remain tuned to the right frequency where sweet
music is playing - and stop reverting to a chaotic
state leaving me winded on an empty beach
Without meaning - when will the meaning I give to
things stop changing into alienation, how can I be-
come a happy beach bum when I judge myself as
too old to frolic - yet dream of playing in the sea:
will my older physical frame allow me to
Meet my friend the sea head-on, will the sun
and the wind be there for me…
[5 October 2014]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When Illusions are gone all that is left is God and yes, we assign all meaning to all we see here it is all NEUTRAL