Pawn of Insignificance

 

What has been made is not what I knew,

What’s left is the taste of bitter fruit and

No-one seems to understand the bereavement

Of bright shore of optimism,

            I’m at sea and clouds

Are dark, hide light as sleeping;

The tentacles of doubt drag unconsciously

My torso from the beach.

 

            Slumber!

Where comfort of forgotten tragedy

Kept unwittingly my thoughts from

Seeing all; is the hint that,

My - self mentored state knows

Only Parody of existence – boasting

In I a façade that wears a smile,– glowing for

The youthful man that thought he’d left it all

behind.

 

            ‘There is such a comforting in ignorance.’

 

            ‘Out here’ though,

Where clouds accumulate a drowning storm

There is no buoyancy but just a thrashing

To try and stay alive,

To stay afloat as waves peak so high –

The horizon offers nothing but a wall,

Then trough to insignificance of mind.

 

            These waves, peaks, troughs, clouds

Lightening rain and wind,

Have always been apparent within my being,

But crystal, clarity and violence have now

Awakened I to the probability of a grudge,

As snubbed by a Mariners lifeline I am caught

Clinging above the depths.

 

            Perhaps he did not see through the swell;

This being that came to be –

This human the sea is trying to drown,

            I make noise but the buoy becomes

The bell that startles all my thoughts to

Intrusive death tones of a grave,

And exhaustion takes the grasp - for

Life outside the reach of

Nothing but a marionette,

            And my last measure of sanity,

Is though a ‘Piece’ presents itself in many themes

And forms upon a board;-

The storm cares not for none at all.

 

Michael J Waite 12^th June 2011.