You're losing you

A Poem by fay's unKle

Some times, some people don't step on the ground firmly and they feel shaky.

Soul's mirrors and mind's

study are the eyes,

and the verdict is clear,

wild animals cave in the

hollows of your mind, herds,

escorting your thoughts

and opening your eyes wide,

front window to a

spacy mind's fantasies,

and easy smiles drawn,

as thorny roses pricking

your fingers, you're hurt.

Call it gathering of the herds,

or.... the others showed up.

Snakes spell words ?

One word one snake ?

One stabbing one wolf ?

Feels like jungle, go hunting,

chase the wild with the risky,

personalize the unknown,

then look for the stick.

Seems to feel like

being in other places,

in their places ?

too small a world ?

meeting them everywhere,

always away from a home,

in your home.

You're searching all the time

without looking for something,

you're here and there and

your thoughts everywhere,

pages never turned,

a bit of each on a lot,

starting one and continuing another,

thoughts are powering you,

natural energizers,

consuming yourself.

You're consumed unhappily,

sleeping seated and eating laid,

waiting with the mornings for light.

Enjoy watching the horizon

at the sea shores,

not the sky,

guess how big the world is,

don't wonder what's on

it's other side, reporting

leave of absence.

You always want to see

where your sight can't reach.

Look at the mirror

and see something.

Where are you ?

You seem to think, it's not worthy it.

But everything ? Everybody ?

Who's remote, you or the others.

Where those you looked for are ?

You are leaving us,

if you could look at me and see my

concerns, would you stay with us.

It's not an end,

forests will keep making oxygen,

the sun, light and the seas, rain's water.

Live, Alive.

© 2017 fay's unKle

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Reviews

jacob erin-cilberto

i like how it is two poems in one..
and how we strive to see what is just out of sight...the herds of thoughts and feelings that often run over us while we cannot catch one of them and hold onto it.
we wonder and wander, always about the other side, and not realize that by not grasping what is right in front of us, our poems become extinct before they exist.
j.