Nature is bland chaos

Nature is bland chaos

All the world is alive, scurrying about their daily lives,
They do not feel the prick of a thousand tiny knives.
All around are hundreds, thousands of tiny golden threads
Lives of meaning, lives of purpose, all is right within their heads.
A tapestry of my failings to look upon forever.
A place so close but will I touch it? Never.
Across the way there is a place where the colors are muted gray
The ones who live here have all lost their way.
Lives tossed aside, we are less than them.
We live in the dust at the tapestry's torn hem.
We are the ones who are wrong, we are broken and rich with the plague
We are the ones who see the world, it is distinct and it is vague  
Each molecule of pain, each mote of desperation, each droplet of insignificance passes before our eyes,
While the rest go on living in their sweet lies.
They do not see the grey cloud just beyond the bend.
They have no understanding of that despair which does not mend.
They do not understand that we who live in this bland and chaotic place,
The ones who see the crack in every beautiful face,
The ones who see it all,
We see the world rise and then fall.
We see  the contradictions that exsist within the world, the vibrant colors passing by,
The black and white cascading sky.
Every thing seems so simple to them who live in the light,
But they do not realize that they are blind not gifted with sight.
They do not notice the reality of nature, the ebb and flow,
The high tides and the low.
To them everything is set, but what if for a moment they could see
That it is they who are living in a fantasy?

Reviews

[Lorraine]

The concept is deep and meaningful. You have a pretty negative look on life and nature but in a way, I have to agree they are partly true. I think more than anything else, this poem is a battle between people who see life as a gift and those who see life in all its cruelty. Great emotional build up here and I think you've quite proven a point.

Keep Writing. ^___^