Everything Is Still The Same Poem by RIC BASTASA

what is written on paper
is a prescription, i am trying
to draw some images that
lead to
creation and not
to self-destruction

last night another crazy
decision is cast
before he did it
he writes a note: when reason for life is lost,
life is lost

when someone tells you, Life is worth living
the other side also evokes it. Life is not worth living anymore.

No one can be of help. Each one is
drowning too.

Others are merely on the start of the journey
taking a big knapsack of provisions,
a partner beside, and some children's hands to hold,

in the middle of the journey
some hands lose grip, children become grown-ups and take
their separate paths,
separate lives,
more ideas, clashing views, wars within,

to an extreme you finally find yourself alone
and you are now at the top of the mountain where it gets to snow as well
it is cold, and you hear no sound except the howling of the wind
and sounds of wild dogs

and then it gets too dark,
you warm yourself with your fire, your thick clothes
and make a tent, and sleep

some are gone
the following morning
it is hard to think
how they manage
to jump
instead of coming back and telling
the good story
of the comeback

sometimes it is better to just stay
on the plains
do nothing and just wait

let the seasons come and go
and simply be an observer, and then
write about it.

everyone dies anyway.
less pressure, less pain,
and everything is still the same.