When life is reduced to moments, moments become so precious. Anguish stays not when love makes one forget and besotted.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Log and stock. Drowned in the sea of time. Will I ever be master of this all? Recognizing the thrills and frills that keep me going...but it remains ambivalent at the same time. I have been floaty for over a year now. Mostly. This light feeling, interestingly, resists time and form.
In a most quinessential way, I exist in between realms of consciousness. I have, often times, felt happy and sad, at the same time. Some part in me, is happy. While I know that I simply need to keep negatives at bay, this tide comes and wraps around me so easily. Of course, my very nature concedes when hit. But my past joy keeps tabs on these, locks and guards the Gate of Choice. I am keeper of this awareness. That has been so for quite a fair bit of time. Behold this! What are these whispers I hear? Simply mesmerizing. I do not have an explanation.
New York is pretty. Brooklyn bridge in particular. Love the chilly breeze on this summer day. Cyclists side by side pedestrians who scamper away taking in the breathtaking sights of this beautiful city with their selfie sticks. The streets of NYC are like trees that line alongside my little road of life, so prim and proper. Each street represents a trajectory into the "moments" all seemingly laid across the table, asking to be read by a poker player who would decide which card to pick for the game. The skyscrapers are so inviting too. Nevermind the endless flow of human traffic. They never make any sound. My mind is calm. My breathing lonely. Certain times I know I am fully here and free. Certain times knotted. Realism and surrealism are but just words. It feels tranquil.
I am grateful that I see, smell, touch and sense. A sense of triumphant contentment. And yet, just ethereally poignant is the knowledge that this is inessential in it all. The flight here was smooth. Or was it a fight? I am not sure. It just uncoils like a ball of yarn dropped callously by the knitter who sits to await time because she is lost to herself in deep, dark sorrow.
Money helped this round. Well, a little. Never knew what to do with the cash and all. I always knew that enough is enough. This epiphany moment of all sorts I recognize. The need. And I am indeed glad I have enough. Life is good. I am evenly contented. What a thought? Yes, for now. Even this, is sudden and irresponsibly evasive. My mind fleets speedily as if Time forbids me to stay on one page to dwell for glee sakes.
Tinsel town does not strike me any more than how food is to a hungry soul. I ought to be chirpier. I do try. Staying over at Mum's place helped. I know I have to buck up and move on. I know I can sit through this moment of deferred compensation in my moments of moments. I must say I finally understand the biblical reference related to this --- ...alone, you can achieve nothing on your own. I am the vine and you are the branches...
Time is revealed. Chapters and chapters unfolding like cards that take time to be shuffled for they only respond to the most agile fingers of the master at the table.
Awake. I sleep. I did. Very little. My disturbed self proclaims victory over pain. Once again I arise to shine. I take up my sword gallantly for my ride through this forrested terrain I want no part of. Again. Mixed. Like a soldier called to battle, only half asleep. My co-existence now insinuates that living can be a lie because one needs to feel. Do I? Oh well, awake, Sleepyhead. It's time in no time.
- Written by Zany Lynn
- Category: Poetry
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