Kicking around in the dust
Of another directionless day
Wishing on a long dead star
That revelation is real
We were stillborn in this place
Reached up through the lattice of weeds
Grew old and tired and died here
As if we had ever lived
And floating high above the clouds
We see at last what all this if for
The hamster running on his wheel
The time that nevers ends
The pull of procreation
That withers in the dying light
And leaves our winters colder
Than the ghosts that haunt our heads.
© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020
Hauntingly beautiful. It leaves you wondering…
I like ‘hauntingly’ – fits well with the theme. Delighted that you liked this, B.
Wow Chris. This piece is perfect. Seriously, it met me right where I’m at. Excellent.
It’s rewarding to know that this resonated with you. tara. I think, as writers, this is perhaps the greatest compliment that ee could receive. Tbank you.
I agree with you. To know that our words have touched another person, that connection, that understanding, that not-so-alone feeling… makes it worthwhile.
☺
Strong piece – talk about the fear of ageing!! At least you cling to the thought that time never ends? Could be a lockdown poem?
Ha, ha – I like your thinking! Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts.
Utterly moving and relevant for this time on this planet, Chris. I am reminded how hard it is not to be a hamster when the pressure’s always on to be one…
Absolutely, Rachael. We run and run thinking that we can escape it until our time itself runs out. Thank you for getting this.
A powerful verse on the sense of our insignificance. I am reminded of that line from T.S.Elliot, ” Man cannot bear too much reality” but you have had the courage to look deep beyond our comfort zone and the view is both terrifying and compelling !!
Thank you for such a fine and insightful response – your reading of this is exactly what I was aiming at.
Chris, this is achingly, powerfully relatable.
Thanks, Melanie, delighted that it touched you.