KurtAurelius
Bluelighter
Monday, and wondering what to do.
Thoughts ring as loud as the tinnitus in my ears, and swirl faster than all the collagen in my eyes.
With abandoning my force of control, I step outdoors for no reason at all.
Phone behind, eyeglasses too to let the world fade into a blur.
Across the river, I fight to breathe, just one clear steady breath, time and time again.
As nature ends into civilisation, reluctance shows the end, I want no further.
But the banister calls, the wind combs my hair, and makes my eyes squint.
Glints of water, a shovel and Lost Mary vape discarded away.
Even trashed, the water soothes, my airways open for a steady breath.
The pools of water hunger me for a moment.
And suddenly a gentleman appears.
Speckled grey stubble and lines of age, topped with a cap and dark shades.
Am I okay?
I am okay, loaded with a sigh.
My focus can relent on the words, as he points out the scenery.
Carl Jungs infinite sea pops into words from the waves,
His reply? That we are all who we are, and a path it is we walk ourselves on.
So fragmented I can’t recall the details, but I piece together his pain, parents he buried two decades ago.
Pain spoken as present and seen with confirmation.
But suddenly again he reminds the scenery, and states like a prayer the fullness of its value.
Always searching for more, when there isn’t anything else I say.
Exactly it is. and it’s why you never turn back, is the last word he says.
And as he walked on, he stayed true to his word.
Thoughts ring as loud as the tinnitus in my ears, and swirl faster than all the collagen in my eyes.
With abandoning my force of control, I step outdoors for no reason at all.
Phone behind, eyeglasses too to let the world fade into a blur.
Across the river, I fight to breathe, just one clear steady breath, time and time again.
As nature ends into civilisation, reluctance shows the end, I want no further.
But the banister calls, the wind combs my hair, and makes my eyes squint.
Glints of water, a shovel and Lost Mary vape discarded away.
Even trashed, the water soothes, my airways open for a steady breath.
The pools of water hunger me for a moment.
And suddenly a gentleman appears.
Speckled grey stubble and lines of age, topped with a cap and dark shades.
Am I okay?
I am okay, loaded with a sigh.
My focus can relent on the words, as he points out the scenery.
Carl Jungs infinite sea pops into words from the waves,
His reply? That we are all who we are, and a path it is we walk ourselves on.
So fragmented I can’t recall the details, but I piece together his pain, parents he buried two decades ago.
Pain spoken as present and seen with confirmation.
But suddenly again he reminds the scenery, and states like a prayer the fullness of its value.
Always searching for more, when there isn’t anything else I say.
Exactly it is. and it’s why you never turn back, is the last word he says.
And as he walked on, he stayed true to his word.
