An End To An End Poem by Kevin Maroney

Sweeping ocean, you see me so true,
with your wonderful vista and panopalytic view.
Indeed, I wish I'd been like your fish,
to leap in and out in great joy.

Yet I find myself bound by rust and reflection,
dead to myself and all in all direction,
a wondrous sight, indeed, disbelieving typhoon,
for you see, I picked up naught but air with my spoon.

The milky waters I swim every day,
through which I turn rapidly and sway,
dark nights of bright sorrow, so confused am I,
when staring without a thought at the sky.

Yet again I ask, with increasing derilection,
and not a few of unfair perplection,
where does my duty, my purpose lie,
if my mind will leave me, on the sly?

It tricks and taunts me, amused is it so,
indeed, I wonder, will it ever me show?
To be what I am, I am what I must,
for this daily fluctuating liquid marble bust.

The hair flows and sinks through time,
as though it were covered in filth and grime,
lost track, till it stops altogether,
till my head, so turned about, feels light as a feather.

Turned to superstition, doubt, is my last resort,
Something of which I have oft retort.
An evil I cannot myself amend,
yet even with others, I find no end to an end.

The wall comes and goes as it please,
this end begins again, and as before will not cease.