The Whatever Poem Poem by Patrick Monamodi

There is a kernel in my bosom—
twisting, turning and yearning,

wanting to be born;
to germinate, see light,
and illuminate.

It may be controversial;
questionable, reasonable,
or credible.

It is about realms;
about light, about night,
about the chessboard
between them.

A mystical seed—
simultaneously physical,
intangible and spiritual.

Something to do with eternity;
analogue, digital
and destiny.

I want to write about lockdown;
viruses, gigabytes
and apocalypse.

But I am not sure where to start.
I am unknowledgeable, confused—
yet somehow,
somewhat enlightened.

I need conviction to speak;
to convince,
to understand,
and to be understood.

There is a grain in my brain—
wanting, waiting
and wailing.

My heart is pounding;
my soul yearning,
my mouth yawning,
my mind pondering.

Whatever it is—

it has always been,
it will soon end,
and somehow,
it will always be.