March 04, 2010

Awaiting questions

black and blue
dull rusted metal
clinging on
to one another for survival
as vines creep up to eat them away

I draw them around me
by the diktats of the world
that command me-
fashion yourself in a certain way
forget what you feel
no more is this an open kingdom
bottle them up, they say!

the shutters bind
I have no key
no secret code
no magic chants

standing outside my cage
the world laughs
calls me by different names
I know not, sometimes, how to respond.

Words, my slaves,
at times fail me
buckle me and chain me
their silence, their absence
or as blunders and potholes.

These shutters
that curb and contain and impose and refrain
these shutters
I want a release from these shutters.


Too much philosophy is happening in the quiet of the head. As earphones plug me off from the out-worldly sounds, as moving images of two of my ad films digress me from the movements around, introspection has set in.

How quiet my life seems, and yet so cluttered with the voices in my head. I wonder why I have so many questions. And I wonder if anyone can even be addressed those questions to.

Twenty three years and yet I feel life has just gone a full circle. No wisdom, no sense. Impulsiveness and trust still belittling all the knowledge I amass.

Work anchors me. Thoughts of home and family set in a calm. Friends- here, there, everywhere inspire a smile.

But what is all this about? This struggle, this defeat, those minor random wins, that heart-wrenching pain that plagues me in spasms of suddenness, that hysterical laughter that drowns every goddamn existing thingsoundsmell in a whisker.

I am not depressed in the least. I am just too pensive, and introspective. Attempting patterns of sense, figuring the bigger jigsaw puzzle that includes my own little set of puzzle blocks as a minor set.

Like they say, maybe only time can tell...


Anonymous said...

time will never tell,,,and the questions,,,
they are jus best as questions,,,
they keep us goin,,,
if there is an answer to them then theres nothing worth living for,,

Juggernaut said...

there is beauty in chaos...why then attempt to seek patterns of sense?

© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall