Quest

What is this thing that’s squeezing me?
I seem so far away from myself,
moving as in a dream,
Dreamer with nothing but cobwebs in my brain,
reeling from too many thoughts of myself.
I am afraid of the clamp that seems to have
pressed itself against my temple,
squeezing me until I am a robot,
numb to others and myself.

What is my place in this place?
I want to live again.
So bound inside that a song won’t come,
words stuck in my throat,
and the guitar put down in despair.
Perhaps that is my song.

Who am I?
And what of this stuff
should I deal with and
what should I not waste time on?

When I share my dreams,
they seem so hollow.
What do I really want?
What do I believe in?
Afraid to share for being
referred,
rejected.

I miss the child,
the one who laughed and
loved and
ached and
wept.
I miss the innocence.

I am tired of fingering
mementos of the past.
What do I keep?
What do I let fall away,
cobwebs?

I thirst for something new.
All I have is today.
Can I simply find in today
all the answer that I need for today?

Why is the simple so complex?
Questions haunt me:
Who am I? And God?
Where am I going?
Why am I here?

This road is long and
I am old and
tired and
I think that even though
I can have anything,
all I really want is that
old,
ancient
lust;

I want fire.

9/29/92

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2 Comments

  1. Wow. what a beautiful and pulling poem. Sometimes it is hard to understand who we are, but when we do find out our true identity, we are given such hope and comfort. I know that I have felt that in my life as I have known and truly internalized who I really am.

    Like

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