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The World In Which We Are
We'll air our souls out onto this wind
That curls our matter to its own behest.
Soothed we are in our damned microcosm
Of a life that we will someday be.
How large we feel in being so small;
A speck with ineffable wonder.
Hurried and stagnant, brittle and bold;
Sourcing meaning from any creation.
What words to define those moments unmeasured
By the constraints we warp to ground our minds?
These puny freedoms we allow ourselves
When we wonder upon what is.
But before we retreat back into the mind
To fret over the days to come,
Know you may revisit at any time,
Return to a knowing most honest.
an almost fathomless
an almost fathomless poem
thank you