Tessa, This Is The Noise I Make

Stroking you, my eyes glazed over
the dream. So easy to drown in
gravity and sadness. Sins. Name
them? Too many! Mostly how to
overcome the anguish that comes;
friends who’d come and go like rain.

I’d like to know, and learn and
believe. Too many half-circles.
All the people crossed hands,
joined randomly, and then taking
a lifetime to untangle the mess,
to make a big, complete circle.

Is there a method to madness?
Through the labyrinth, through
the looking glass. So that we won’t
go home empty-handed, our hearts
become full. Now why do you look
at me, eyes round as saucers?

Prompt:

Now that you’re nearer to the end of life, does it seem like things have come full circle? Or does it seem like it takes a lifetime to untangle the mess that attends to most lives? Or maybe you’ve satisfied your work goals and you’re now looking at other ways of self-fulfilment? I mean, there’s got to be new growth at every stage of life, am I right? Or do you believe in renunciation? Or if not that, then to simplify your lifestyle? You tell me, I’m curious to know. Whatever it is, your life isn’t really settled, or is it? What have you settled and what have you not? Do you feel smug because you’ve got it all figured out? Try to answer this in a poem.

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