Why am I scared
to make amends?
To let go, move on,
stop holding on to this
in fear?

In the end, it matters little
what I held so dear.

When in death
it becomes
abundantly clear,

that the mental gymnastic escalations
of thoughts eternally bound
to internal consternation

that, in effect,
will reflect,
then reject
all modicums
of self-respect,

and leave me

in some other place alone,
unsurrounded
by other souls,
and astounded
by all I’m yet to know,

all I’ve yet to let go,
to stop holding on,
start moving on,

and make amends with a past
I cannot change.

Only learn from.

I’m not sure if my best times are ahead
or behind me,
the anxiety of not knowing
has blinded me
to the possibilities of what could come to be;
possibilities that continue to elude me.

I don’t know how my worst times
have shaped me, or shaped my mind.
To that I’m inevitably blind.
And though I seek out happier thoughts,
they’re all just memories,
of a life I no longer recognize as mine.

But there’s always more living to be done
and to what extent I would become
an embodiment of self-castigation,
of unfettered need,

the rapacious quality of unconscious greed
that drives this society,

and divides the populace and me,
into factions of unfettered hate:
infractions against this dehumanized social state,
preventing humanity from being great.

But that is not me.

I fear the worst times are yet to come,
so I turn back to sweeter times,
wishing some things could be undone.
But without that possibility,
this social and spiritual decay has become
an inevitability.

I look back to memories of what once was,
only to see a life
that’s somehow lost
to time, to life
to a distant memory.

Guiding me into the eventuality
that yes, this body will decline,

and so it seems,
will this mind.

So I’ll keep on reaching,
seeking
thoughts of happy things,
yet never grasp them,

nor bring them back to me.

and without them,
I am never me.

I am never free.

Life’s changes come
expected or not
Sometimes we’re prepared
Sometimes we’re in a state of blissful ignorance
Or wistfully ignoring
the inevitable path our actions have led us to.

I fear not the coming end.
The escape from complexity
to clarity
or nothingnesss

Either is the greener grass on the other side
of this life

Either is where I won’t object to going,
escaping the complexities
and pressures
of an unsustainable life

or lifestyle

And yet
I am reminded of the many
whose complex situations only
bring out their fortitude
and valor
their perseverance and pride

as they humbly seek the refuge of another country

I too see refuge from another country
another past

and am trapped by that refuge.

The complex, all or nothing
options to escape this complexity
weigh too heavily
on the heart and mind

and make the escape from choice another choice.

I’ll not travel down that choice, but I will not fight it’s arrival.

I am ready.

Thankful.

and sorry.

There is this agony inside that uncontrols me,
usurps my will for rational,
usurps my temporal being.
It uncontrols me, without revealing itself
to that being uncontrolled;
it hides itself
from me

it is me

it’s obvious to those around me
but only the closest;
only the few who can be hurt
so easily by me

my only outlet
my only prison

of mind and soul to this uncontrolled
and unstable state of being

a state of me
an obstruction to being free

and a result of lack of freedom
to discover and be me

a cycle inescapable,
but breakable.
by something that’s had no start yet,
which makes it hard to see an end

it’s a wait and see

uncontrolled this cycle.

forgotten sometimes
on a bicycle

but still a looming state
of being

a state that is defining me.
that is me.