(wfsth?)
Seeker of Something
- Jul 19, 2022
- 11
I find it hard to believe it's been three years since that night. I've changed some, become more aware of why I feel certain ways and what to do about those feelings, and overall am just in a better situation. I've taken up poetry for when I need to vent frustrations or sadnesses, and it's helped to some extent. My underlying doubts, however, have not gone anywhere, and I suspect they never will; I still question what path I should take, if I'll be successful, and why the world is how it is. A new development, though, is having to question my mental well-being whenever I get into a bad mood, as I tend to let my thoughts spiral out of control to the point where it's hard to tell if I'm just having a bad day or am legitimately returning to past illness. I've thought more about my reasons for wanting to end it all, and I've come to the conclusion that I wanted to escape responsibility, both with a big choice that was impending and overall life responsibilities that were in the not-so-distant future. As such, I'm a little worried for what will become of me when I must enter the next phase of my life, and hope that I will be able to handle the stress better than three years ago. I've decided I'll keep posting an anniversary post once a year just to make sure I don't forget, though not that I probably could, and learn from the past. If you read this far, thanks for sticking with it. To the me a year from now, don't look at where you want to be, but at how far you've come from who you were.
P.S. Here's two of the poems I wrote. The first one is "Ring of Life" and the second one is "Epiphany", written during moments of deep contemplation.
They form a ring around the rosies
And stuff their pockets full of posies
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Outgrowing their beds, but for now cozy
They form a ring that they rejoice in
And stuff their pockets full of poison
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Victims of each other's voices
They form a ring that they dare not leave
And stuff their pockets full of what they believe
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Stagnancy being all they've achieved
They form a ring on which they lie
And stuff their pockets full before they die
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Echoing a hymn of "why, why I?"
They form a ring above their heads
And empty their pockets, for they are dead
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so some fall down
But some of them rise up instead.
————————————————————————
A boy one day began to walk
Far beyond his city's blocks.
Away from the place he used to mock
This boy, then, began to talk:
"These flowers, these trees;
Those songbirds, those bees;
Rings of crimson toadstools;
All of these are beautiful."
The boy resumed his walk once more
Until he reached the ocean shore.
In contrast with the waves' great roar
His heart set free a calm outpour:
"Orion, Centaurus, Big and Little Dipper;
A dolphin's breach, a whale's 'nourmous flippers;
Mirrored 'pon Gaea's reflection pool;
All of these, too, are beautiful."
The boy sailed across this ocean vast
'Till land could be seen from his ship's mast
And as the locals stood, in flabbergast
The boy began his bardic broadcast:
"Hear me, people, one and all:
You all have reason to stand tall;
Being Gaea's own Crown Jewels,
All of you are beautiful."
Further past, the boy glanced 'pon a sight
Of a great many fighting an e'en greater fight.
He drew near, for he und'rstood their plight
And, with mere words, began to unite:
"Soldiers, every one of you is brave,
But you needn't reach an early grave.
Do not die merely as another's tool,
For both you and the others are beautiful."
And then he left, having saved each clan.
No longer a boy, but now a man,
Knowing soon was the end of his plan,
He voyaged back to where he began
"Hid'ous, insid'ous, concrete spires;
Wretched dens of wretched liars.
But what is this? Am I a fool?
E'en this ugliness, seems beautiful."
P.S. Here's two of the poems I wrote. The first one is "Ring of Life" and the second one is "Epiphany", written during moments of deep contemplation.
They form a ring around the rosies
And stuff their pockets full of posies
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Outgrowing their beds, but for now cozy
They form a ring that they rejoice in
And stuff their pockets full of poison
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Victims of each other's voices
They form a ring that they dare not leave
And stuff their pockets full of what they believe
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Stagnancy being all they've achieved
They form a ring on which they lie
And stuff their pockets full before they die
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so they all fall down
Echoing a hymn of "why, why I?"
They form a ring above their heads
And empty their pockets, for they are dead
Ash to ash, dust to dust
And so some fall down
But some of them rise up instead.
————————————————————————
A boy one day began to walk
Far beyond his city's blocks.
Away from the place he used to mock
This boy, then, began to talk:
"These flowers, these trees;
Those songbirds, those bees;
Rings of crimson toadstools;
All of these are beautiful."
The boy resumed his walk once more
Until he reached the ocean shore.
In contrast with the waves' great roar
His heart set free a calm outpour:
"Orion, Centaurus, Big and Little Dipper;
A dolphin's breach, a whale's 'nourmous flippers;
Mirrored 'pon Gaea's reflection pool;
All of these, too, are beautiful."
The boy sailed across this ocean vast
'Till land could be seen from his ship's mast
And as the locals stood, in flabbergast
The boy began his bardic broadcast:
"Hear me, people, one and all:
You all have reason to stand tall;
Being Gaea's own Crown Jewels,
All of you are beautiful."
Further past, the boy glanced 'pon a sight
Of a great many fighting an e'en greater fight.
He drew near, for he und'rstood their plight
And, with mere words, began to unite:
"Soldiers, every one of you is brave,
But you needn't reach an early grave.
Do not die merely as another's tool,
For both you and the others are beautiful."
And then he left, having saved each clan.
No longer a boy, but now a man,
Knowing soon was the end of his plan,
He voyaged back to where he began
"Hid'ous, insid'ous, concrete spires;
Wretched dens of wretched liars.
But what is this? Am I a fool?
E'en this ugliness, seems beautiful."
