I’m so tired of waiting for something to happen in my life I’m aware of every known amazement to man Every mountain Every ocean Every valley They all have a name But I've renamed them They all have a new name Indifference
I am aware of all my limitations Both mental and physical I’ve had this feeling before Where I’m bursting through my skin And all feeling is directed towards meaning And I hate that I don’t know the answer I hate that I have limitations I cannot begin to learn every language It seems someone must know something Beyond borders Beyond religion Beyond culture Beyond imagination It has a name Consciousness
The other day a man spoke to me He knew everything He saw in me his audience And he smiled as he spoke Quickly Fact after learned fact The more I listened the more excited he became He said my strengths were his weaknesses And his strengths were my weaknesses I wasn’t an eye rolling wife Or a bored student I wanted to know what he knew And he told me that I knew already Even though it was new to me Not life But how he described it He said wait for it It is coming It has a name Hope
I saw a picture of a girl the other day They were showing off her body Every girl I know secretly wants to eat like a man And they suffer for it But there it was again A beautiful body And it was more important than what that man told me That man is stuck between dirt roads and death He will never be your neighbor But her body will be It will be next to you everywhere you go Because her body is what this world is about And she has nothing to say She doesn’t have to All she has to do is stand there And men will want her And women will hate her It has a name Superficiality
I love that girl Why does she have so much power? Yet I don’t want her to speak because then she will lose her power It seems I need her in my life I am drawn to her beauty It is the only thing that I never tire of Why? It has a name Lust
I know there is an answer But is it THE answer? It’s an old book But that book has its enemies The book collects dust then is brushed off It seems it is needed and then discarded But the words never change People memorize the words People hate the words People believe the words It describes a world that is only known by wall paintings and fragments A manuscript is not a picture There isn’t anyone we can talk to It requires we believe in the suspension of the laws of physics It requires we believe something that our mind says can’t be true Yet what we are left with are other things that can’t be true What is truth when truth is something no man can create? It has a word Faith
The good thing about having children is you see the cycle You see the desire for things that you eventually discard You see how they begin even as you end And you know where it will end Yet they want it so badly And you ask why? Why must they indulge themselves and learn from their mistakes? Why can’t they just believe in me? But I see myself in them and remember when I loved each day for what it would bring Yet what it brought had been written in every book And experienced by every man But I couldn’t get to the end fast enough And now the end is here Not of life but of experience Because now it is a matter of living with the knowledge that this is it But this knowledge is not enough to propel me back to my place of birth Where my mother suffered to allow me to know these things It has a name Ritual
What is the next step? Every moment is designed to create a box for my children to begin They are in the box and I stand watching it I know they will someday emerge but they must live in the box Everything they touch and see will describe the box From the inside But they don’t know it’s a box One day they will learn of the box and realize it was their limitations There is no size or distance between walls to describe Each box is different It only depends on one thing Curiosity And when boredom outweighs curiosity then they will emerge Because they will see how nothing they know provides the answer It has a name Meaning
I hope they can join me But for now I will remain silent in my ridicule of meaningless pursuits I will let them do the things I did But it is easier for me because they are not as reckless as I was Today I drove through my past I saw the homes of my old friends I remember the things we did to fool our parents It was easy to do what I wanted even though I knew the rules Maybe our parents just believed in us Like I believe in my children It is the irony of knowing better It is what you think but you really don’t know We don’t know our children yet we think we know of life It has a name Delusion
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