The Stable Life Is No Life At All Poem by Seth Proch

I station myself on a patch of earth,
Determined to stand, unwavering,
A lite breeze crosses my path,
I follow where it leads.

This breeze leads to pain,
The next to happiness,
A fine line between the two,
How will I know which to follow?

Again I find comfort,
Normalcy,
Complacency,
I station myself once more,

This time no wind will move me,
I've dug a hole,
Ankle high,
My feet are burried beneath the soil.

A bitter cold falls upon the world,
Ground becomes brittle,
With little effort, I break free,
I shake off the dirt and walk again.

Pain, sadness, emotion,
This cannot happen again,
To the waist I submerge below ground,
Immobile, uncomfortable, and content.

A storm of rain shakes my confidence,
The earth becomes soft,
Easy to move,
I wander from my chosen place.

Enraged at my failure,
Once and for all I will plant my roots,
Finally, stability will be achieved,
Regardless the cost.

Six feet down I dig,
I lay on my back and watch the dirt fall,
Soon I will escape feeling,
Buried alive I find solace, free from freedom.