All of Me

I ventured out into the dark woods of new poetry hoping to find a glade of tranquility, a place of meditation and thought.  I stumbled along many a game trail till I decided it might be better to blaze a new one on my own, and while hacking through briers and slipping through the underbrush I came upon a burbling brook that whispered to me of poets who had come and read there poems in the quiet laughter of its presence.   Having remembered the poems the brook kindly recited them for me, and being not fluent in the language of streams and rivers I was unable to comprehend, though the emotions of the pieces were enough that I ended my searching and came home.  I tried for a time to put what had been given to me to words and found that human language lacked the descriptive power to convey the raw beauty of the experience and so I will search again.

Among the deserts of my mind I have wandered, over  baked sand dune, one after the other while the moon is high in the night sky.  I bury myself deep in the sand, with a cloth over my head and a straw to breath, for the noon day sun would surely scorch my bones.  And in my wanderings I have found an oasis or two, with crystal clear water, snuggled between the dunes, enticing me to stay beneath the cool shade of its trees, but I am a wanderer.  And so I wander the cooling sands under the stars and the moon,  soaking up the rage of the sands through the soles of my feet.  Every step, one taken in the search for another new oasis where I can rest for a time, put my pack on the ground, take out a pen, and share my thoughts with the lonely pages of my life.

I subsist and live among the bones of dead trees, in a maze of steel girded domiciles, the jungle of human civilization.  I skim along the surface of society, leaving little ripples upon the surface to tell of my passing.  Each touch just long enough to keep me a float, gliding silently between the dark depths of human selfishness and greed, and the lofty aspirations of others like myself.  I am so scared to fly, fearing I will actually fall and drown among a world of sorrows, but I will flap my tiny wings, putting my fear behind me, and soar like any eagle upon the words, and in the world of poetic license, for there I can share with you all of me.

~ by An Imperfect Servant on 07/05/2009.