Return to Dust

A statue of a memory lost to time,

once someone's loving, grand design.

Of a quality that once inspired rhyme

when they often tried to define the sublime.

Oh, why is there never any satisfaction

for a heart called relentlessly into action.

Ever at the expense of interaction

to the point of social putrefaction.

Blessed by providence to want- no, desire.

Lit within by an unquenching fire.

The infernal bellows stoking higher

the conflagration that will be my pyre.

If I'm to die by a thousand wounds

could you at least tell me the number remaining?

I've already picked out a lovely tomb,

buried within these lines I'm staining

black as the petals after they've bloomed

and time has come for life's replacing.

Recycled to nurture another womb

much like these words with which I'm failing.

Sitting here, just trying to understand

why it's so damn hard to want a hand

when shadows cluster on every side

and every tactic's long been tried.

To reveal again to these colorblind eyes

that I've always done the best I can.

In another place, another time, maybe I'd believe

one of those ancient poets could have been me,

Coping with thoughts that comprise the stuff

that caused our metal hearts to wither and rust.

But, even though this life's never quite enough,

it's still a bit better than returning to dust.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Honest and good words and thoughts.
"In another place, another time, maybe I'd believe
one of those ancient poets could have been me,
Coping with thoughts that comprise the stuff
that caused our metal hearts to wither and rust.
But, even though this life's never quite enough,
it's still a bit better than returning to dust."
The above lines. A question we may answer one day. I believe we are born and we decide our place and journey. We shall return to dust but what we do. Does matter. I liked this poem. The direct thoughts and statements left something for the reader to think about. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Sazaku]

Thank you very much, Coyote. I've been on a drive lately of trying to be as honest as I can manage, with... mixed results. That's the thing about candid writing though, you can generally be satisfied with the product, good or bad.

As for what you mention specifically, I try not to comment on my own ideas too much as I think it removes an important aspect of poetry - drawing one's own, untainted conclusions. I'll say that I find myself of the same mind as you on this one. It's easy to get lost in the destination and forget that we're here to walk the path as well. Even if we don't end up making it in the end, that doesn't make it a waste.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree and you are welcome.