Dread, Fright and the Soul’s Might; a Poem
Comes a time that’s filled with dread, rising from my slumbering bed, cast out in a world of buying, my soul’s on fire and I’m wondering why and – first came a basic motorcar – to go real close, to travel far, and then it changed into a symbol, a calling card, a golden thimble – to sew our way out in the world, to show what’s sown and get the girl…
I lay awake throughout the night, I shrug off existential fright, I would prefer that I’m not dying, of that fact there’s certainly no denying.
Caught between fear and spirit, a grin, a gin and some cigar smoke to thin it, I seek to lose myself in love, the passion, heat and trembling of – a moment unlike all the rest, a time to breathe, to escape the mess – of the holy smoke and the vapor of life, anxiety and perpetual strife, a child suffering with disease, a family waiting in dis-ease, that life has brought us to our knees!!!
But wait, our gait is not of a beggar, we are not lost, we needn’t give up the ghost to a stranger, of wayward ways and inward un-doings, the grimace that comes when we are lost in space, our own mind a jail in its skull-stone place, our faces etched in unconscious wonder, the season approaches of buying thunder
We ignore ‘cause conscience comes at a price, it tells us to do when the weather’s not nice, it demands we take stock of our inner demons, avoiding the waste of non-sober doings, and calls us to get back on the trail, to turn down drink, back off the bar’s rail, to give up stuffing our faces and stop our buying – to lay down our evasive life of denying
To get to work, to do the work, to immerse ourselves in the creative spirit, to give more than we get and be happy with it, to embrace our consciousness without lusty fright, to burn a light throughout the night, to call that light our enlightenment true and be up to the task of letting it burn through, till we are who we were born to be and live as we must, and then and only then will humanity embrace trust…
What is that trust?
That though we lay awake throughout the night and shrug off existential fright, our preference has little to do with death, but to do the right thing to life’s last breath!
Image courtesy of [Salvatore Vuono] / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
*Authors note: You might see this column pop up online in a newspaper, under the name Both Sides. I am publishing this column here first at CYInterview.com. For a bunch of years, I have been writing newspaper columns. Since my columns have received a good response on CYInterview, I thought I would share it with you. Hope you enjoy.
You can reach me with your questions and comments at Jay@CYinterview.com Like today’s column? Check back frequently.