The Possibility

Perpetually rushing from

one place to another.

Perpetually worrying about

what is to come.

Looking towards the horizon

and watching for the sun

instead of enjoying

the presented preceding beauty

of rainbow rays of sunlight

melded and blended

one into another in

the early morning sky.

 

Does one ever really see

past the annoyances of birds

to notice and to gaze at

the lovely, breathtaking oceanic

ebb and flow of their

flocking tides?

Or to gaze past the storm

to the impact of each individual drop

in the gathered puddles in

the recesses of the street,

each of their echoing ripples

passing over each other?

Is there no appreciation for life

amongst our human business?

 

Freedom was longed for,

fought for, in the past.

Now it is here,

and we are busier than ever.

What is the point of

the idea of freedom?

When is freedom

ever a possibility?

My life will be choked

before I can ever relish it.

Author's Note

Why can't I enjoy life?