Phases

They aren’t clear cut phases. This raises a question in my mind, “When is the right time for transition?” There’s no automatic transmission on life, we have to manually shift. In a prone and prostrate position, I pray the great physician heal me of my current condition. My mind described as this: lost! I entreat […]

They aren’t clear cut phases.
This raises a question in my mind,
“When is the right time for transition?”
There’s no automatic transmission on life,
we have to manually shift.
In a prone and prostrate position,
I pray the great physician heal me of my current condition.
My mind described as this: lost!

I entreat the quiescent world with questions,
but it quails and quivers.
“Anon!” it shouts.
The processes of my mind change from andante to allegro
as my heart contracts.
Is there truly no nepenthe for my soul?!
All I ask for is one line,
the anodyne of this onerous question;
to relieve me from this incongruent linear data separated by ampersands:
I anathematize its insufficiency.

 

(I wrote this one in high school as well – trying to figure out which way I need to go in life.)

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