A Word from the Author:
I wrote this poem in grade 11. It expresses my frustrations about life and how we'll never truly understand it.
It talks a bit about how I think about life and the universe. I don't believe it's physically possible for us to comprehend why we're here, why we exist, simply because we are such a small and insignificant part of what we call reality. The irony is that we continue to try to understand it.
However at the same time it's a relief that some things are out of our hands. Rather than having to deal with such a vast concept, we must handle matters of everyday life - which can be complex enough in themselves.
Note: This work is (C) 1997-2001 Rob DM. Redistribution of this poem in any form is strictly prohibited.
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I watch, I listen, I try to make sense Of what goes on around me. I sit and stare out the window. My mind may seem inactive By the blank stare, But I ponder Sometimes things I, myself, Cannot comprehend in waking thoughts, Though sometimes slip from dreams to reality And my mind yells in triumph That I have solved an age-old problem, But then I realize that I can no longer remember What the solution was…and soon afterward The question itself fades. I watch and listen. The chaos confuses me. How can anything be understood? Unless there is an order to it, Unless chaos is an order in itself… Then once again, The barrier shows itself, One that I know will never be breached In my waking thoughts, In my living thoughts, In my human thoughts, And though I long to know, I know it cannot be known Except by those whose reality we live in. Those who, In their omnipotence For some unknown reason Decided to create "finity". I wonder, I ponder, Was I made to be, Only an observer? Interaction has proven to me That it is not my ally. But my spirit is fading Without this vital aspect of life. The candle flickers dim, And though I try to rekindle the flame The barrier thwarts my attempts. Giving way just enough for me to see hope. To trick me into leaving the flame Long enough so that with one breath It can extinguish my spirit. In many forms it comes: My life, My friends, My family, Myself. So I continue to shield, losing my trust and faith, My hand Growing feeble day by day From the crippling burden of work, Responsibility And other things that nobody notices, Nor do they appreciate. The flame flickers in the eyes of the Observer, Dying within the fortifications of his own soul Refusing to give up the safety and protection. So he continues, To watch, To listen, To try to understand Why he brings upon himself, This tragic fate. Then why is the observer viewed as a pillar of strength? Perhaps his objectiveness Is to be envied. Perhaps The many thoughts That have humbled him, Is something to be sought after. What the invisible enemy does not know Is just how strong of will he is, When he has direction. While it thinks he is dying in his Isolation, He is using the candle to set alight a bonfire. Then his soul will be strong, And the frustrated breath of the foe Will only fan the flames. -END- |