Life Poetry Writing

Figures of Light

It's a crazy place we live in. An insane time, a foolish generation, and a remarkably dreary society.

In the words of Bhegavad Gita,

“Now I become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

It’s a crazy place we live in. An insane time, a foolish generation, and a remarkably dreary society. Only compounded and multiplied by my lack of ability to focus on the light.

I stand in the tunnel of my mind. One way out. Clear of present danger. The black an unseen left and rights leave only one focal point. The end of the tunnel. Where the children frolick and the grass always smells freshly cut. The light that streams at the finish of my trail is blinding. Something one can not resist but freeze in awe of. Yet unlike any other being that stands in this position, I do not focus on that light. Much to my dismay, and the desolation of those around me.

Instead, I see figures in the light. Dark outlines of things and people that cloud the judgment of the brighter days.

wf.

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