Two worlds,
One pure, wild, and free
The other far more “Civilized”.
Code-bound rules stark against
Childlike simplicity with one law only:
-live or die.
To which do I belong?
Both call me
Both have some claim to my affections.
A balancing act
And I am swinging wildly out of control.
I know what is right
And yet, I cannot do it.
Moderation, it seems, takes more control than I could know.
I like this world – I am, after all,
Clothed, sipping tea while I write with a manufactured pen
On manufactured paper.
But oh, how that one calls!
The sleek black night, cool summer breeze, and clean fresh air await.
I am as a victim, torn between two sirens,
Each singing lovely songs.
But it is not so bad.
I, at least, have a choice.
The most powerful question,
And yet the most simple.
And, by some, most hated.
Don’t ask,
They say.
Nothing will change.
And yet,
I will not be silenced.
I will not ‘shut up and learn’,
Be another clone,
A face in the crowd.

“Everything has meaning”
We are told,
Everything must be there for a reason.
It is good, it is bad,
It is symbolic, or conceptual.
What if it just is?
Why must everything have meaning?
Perhaps there are times when this is false
And we are all running around
Searching desperately for a meaning that is not there
For something that simply is

Every now and then
I want to surprise them
I’d like them to think,
“Is that really her?”
Like the fictional girl
Who appears such a princess
I want them to see past
That meticulous construct
So carefully crafted
That they all call

As I sit and watch, as I so often do,
I see the world go by.
How can it go by so many times,
Yet never seem to pass?
It is still spring, as it has been
So many times before.
For the world is old, and always new.
The contradiction that is life.
Always existing, always creating, always destroying,
And being again.
And as I sit and watch, I see the world go by.
And as I dream, it seems,
That time has passed me by.
And so I sit,
And watch once more