Peace?
When my own mind works against me
What peace can there be?
My right hand throwing rocks
Through my window and
My left hand hurling it back.
In the wild, the ensnaring
Searching tangled roots
I find my fallen mangled boots
And having donned them
March in circles.
Though I spiral endlessly
On the opaque and indiscernible
Ramblings of this nomad mind,
They never churn themselves into butter.
Wasting my time on mundane nothings
I practice braiding water,
I pick my own bones clean
And though Bob Marley said it right
And all three birds are here
I still worry about everything.
The sun’s ray
That brings decay
To the cloth long in the sun,
The shortened days
Where days dismay
Is crushed by weight of night.
I given options often choose destruction
The addictive nightmare
Where at least I’m alive,
I the froward soul
In need of constant reminding
That air is for breathing
Was always meant to fill me
Rather than something to exorcise.
My heart lacquered with
So much bitterness and trauma
It is marinated for disaster,
Like Icarus I collide and burn
With my expectations of myself.
If to you this sounds tiring
To fling oneself into the chasm of chaos,
Then congratulations are in order
For your sound mind and stout heart
And though there is always help out there
So many miles from home
Not all minds and hearts are equal.
When my own mind works against me
What peace can there be?
– Vagabond Prophet
@josy57 prompted me with “A rock through my window.” Thanks for that it is always such a joy writing your prompts.
Vagabond Prophet 