The fight is not
Against your love
Or your will
It's my own nerves
I tried to unlink
Patterns, ways
Etched into my being
Like sunrays
Piercing through the city
Resetting evey morning
Into one and the same
Familiarity, is but a game
I can't cleanse
The city is dense
And the nerves
Entangled, emerging
From a place I lived in
And perhaps never left.
-Al
-
Author:
Alan R (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 23rd, 2024 05:00
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
“Patterns…resetting every morning into one and the same familiarity”: this connects closely, I feel, to something that I have been thinking about recently. I have been given the advice to “own who I am”. But the key question that ensues, I think, is which patterns are set and need to be owned, and which can be disentangled and straightened out, to produce a new, better you. “A place I lived in and perhaps never left”: a haunting notion, conveyed with a lovely image, among others in the poem. My regards to you, Alan.
Thanks for reading and for reflecting...I have been obsessed lately with how our thoughts operate...it's scary to think sometimes how the mind works.
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