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The Gist Of Being Lonely
The Gist Of Being Lonely
Am I just swimming
In the ideas about love?
When I learned
Of the architectron,
I immediately fell
off my balance
knowing that I was
Right all along at being
a mini phenomenologist
If I use this dichotomy,
and of a binary,
of knowing that I'm right
and that you are wrong
—Structures are torn
Because we swam in
Ideas we haven't known
True self, part-self, and future
Self are selfish
We are self-confessed—
Will I be forever distracted,
Is that how you'd see it?
Drowning in this sea of lies?
Like what Nietzsche have said,
Perhaps we only see butterflies!
But I have known how poems
Can be long like prose poetry
Have irregularity or that
Just go free
Like a free verse that is free-flowing
But not as terse, like a haiku may be,
yet impacting humongously—
My mind intermingles these
Things because I live interculturally
Denying moral philosophy
Is not having a better analogy
In every orchestrated journey,
my eyelids get prickly
as if specks of dust clouded my
irides, yet, alas!
I see clearly—
