Bound are we to the limits of genes
The shells we call skin
The cells that thrive in waiting decay
Through the air that gives life in dying
Such is the meaning in our waking:
To walk through a curse unbreaking
Across a crowded road that’s ending
Along with those whom we end up being
We wake and breathe in forgetting
We work and toil in forgetting
We hold on to the voices of our love ones
Either if they be beside us or inside us
As we take in the shadows of the light
Fluttering in the dust of our body, our life’s hourglass.
Before we walk through the edge of the road
And into the clouds that dance in the void of our birth
We know in our every walking night
The unnamed others who touch it before us
And we know we too will be unnamed
To others who will live after us
After our memories flutter in the world’s unknowable being.
For what it is to live in forgetting
When one may live in the road remembering
the constructs of the world’s being
Staring through the eyes of the neon crowd
Or the warring, hateful, peaceful crowd
Swirling in the sea of ugly colors as diverse
As the many bodies of Beauty.
It may not be living remembering
The shell to which we our bound
Or to the others whom we bound ourselves
But it is in the spark of our minds
The act of recalling, even those impossible to recall
(But which we do with eagerness).
And we recall, and we help each other recall.
As such in the crowded road to death
It is in others whom we know we live
So even though we toil in forgetting
We sharing in writing recalling
could be living.
For this prompt:
If you’re like most of us, you need to earn money by working for a living. Describe your ultimate job. If you’re in your dream job, tell us all about it — what is it that you love? What fulfills you? If you’re not in your dream job, describe for us what your ultimate job would be.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us WORK.
I haven’t got a chance to share poetry recently, since I was so busy with school and exams. But it was a beautiful week to, because I got to rekindle an old friendship with someone from high school. I thought I was a horrible friend to him, but he still considers me as his best friend.
I am glad I was able to make someone happy even in the worst years of my life.
For this prompt I just let my mind sing about writing. To live a life and work of writing and learning has long been my dream and passion, and I am working to live it in the future even when the odds pull me towards a dull job behind a government desk doing nothing but paperwork. While being rich would be a plus, just to have my basic needs and the opportunity to write, read, learn, and do things would be enough for me. No one ever needs much to be happy in life, only contentment. Of course, aspiring to be rich and affluent is something else.
I really do hope I live it in the future. I really do.