Living With Anxiety

How many are out there, when the sky turns gray,

where does the heart remain,

the fear in our mind,

in the quiet of an angry world,

how do we all come to terms with that reality,

the personality of peace.

 

We all seek that solace,

no matter the denial, beyond the circumstance

suggests we can belong inside this melting lava of judgment,

seems everyone does want some time to cool off,

and yet,

we plod on,

build the walls around ourselves,

that will prevent the leak,

that could envelop our soul to such a dire degree,

it no longer matters if we believe in freedom,

that kite has flown,

yes it is a pretty sight,

so tangible as the sky does drift its matter into eternal waste.

 

Would we really call it disposable justice

to recognize we might all feel it.

There on the horizon, we wake to look at the sky,

if a storm looms, we immediately recognize

the nature of our lives is out of our control,

and yet,

we fight that truth with every fiber in our body,

and then,

there is always the truth, when suddenly

we become lost in the translation of our it is,

we might even breathe another gasp,

instead we pretend we are beyond this mortality.

Why Again

Why do I find this way,

the acceptable manner

again the hours long,

the time is as brief

as any other moment lost.

While the world around

decides upon their day,

for me it is the dawn

and setting of the moon,

throughout the sky,

I’ve watched as now,

I’m looking the other way,

still again,

still,

so beyond a scope

of reasoning,

I prey to the victim

of my own circumstance,

no one other,

only this self guided

tour of scrutiny

well beyond the norm

of a typical day.

I am that beast of

some myth, some adventure,

the one that always for reasons

did not get away.

Eighteen

A finished product

on paper

wanting immediate recognition

in reality

asking only for keys

to sanity

wonders abound ahead

new quests.

Each moment of passage

now today seems clouded

when yesterday,

the avenues were clear,

I could find you

around every corner

without stumbling forward

into a pedestrian maze.

That symbolism

speaks to tomorrow

suddenly arrived this morning,

when alone I wanted to cry,

no longer able to rely

upon simple childhood.

Tonight I began slowly

to wish for tomorrow

with all of the rewards,

to be a gentle breeze,

one I might navigate through,

challenged by the next mile.

Frozen

One afternoon

I came upon a …

everywhere I glance I see nothing

moments of indecision.

Take a walk around the block

that old adage

street sidewalks look always the same

hundreds of miles away

even upon your doorstep

the emotion received will be the same

static

Glance across the avenue and watch the children play

their world wide open with many exciting

spells of innocent laughter

They’re not frozen yet,

constantly in motion

alive with every fiber of their body.

Want to step inside my mind

I’ll provide the key

just know I can never quite be sure what you might find.

Though I would approve the study

if it helps melt the ice of indecison.

The sky is blue

lights change systemically

the world has a rhythm

continues to drum the slow cadence

a mechanical mecca mastered

in the light of day

repeats itself again and some more

thought I might be redundant again

over and over beyond the notion of change

that is forgotten about long ago

frozen in memory

We will see another sun rise

and the wheels wind by again

despite the frozen atmosphere

wallowing in tune with a late evening sunset.