All Goes Onward and Outward and Nothing Collapses

A free form poem outlined by my favorite line in Song of Myself by Walt Whitman

All of the world is watching me, watching you, watching us live our lives: growing up while sinking down with the weight of the world; gaining momentum at the thought of the finish line to this race we call life and then desperately trying to lose that momentum we once so desired when we finally get close enough to see what exists beyond that infamous red ribbon that signals the end.

 

Goes and goes and goes; everything goes: quick or slow, pained or with ease, it’s always the opposite of what we want it to be.

 

Onward, we press, we pull, we break free of the chains of obligation and society and other peoples wants for us (or at least we try to), we skip with shock and jubilee, we run to make up lost ground, we stop for a rest, we meet people who show us that the joy in being free is being able to race but choosing not to.

 

And so we stay awhile.

 

Outward is everywhere but here, and everywhere is waiting for you and for me, for we, for us! to make a move--the--move"in this twisted chess game that possesses no losers or winners; only players.

 

And all players are children because we are all children: forever youthful, forever wondering.

 

Nothing is better than the feeling of climbing; of flying with the windows down and the music up and your mind free to wander where your feet cannot; of singing at the top of your lungs; of swimming in the summer sun; of letting your feet take you where they’ve never been before.

 

Collapses--the world collapses into my drifting, sleeping mind in ways it could not in the real, waking life and everything becomes so simple… and everything becomes so quiet… and no matter how bad everything is, it seems like everything will be just fine.

Author's Note

This is a first draft piece of writing, so don't judge too hard.