introversion – sixty five

 

Intimacy is still possible,
with people who hate one another,
this often happens,
when you stare in the mirror long enough,
what’s different then,
in being enthralled and appalled at once,
reconciling and irreconcilable,
in a union of secret eloping with your inner most bits.

W.E.

introversion -sixty four

Oh the thought,
of being twice inside myself,
unrecognisable to my eye’s eye,
so alone I can’t ever know anything but the depth of a pale stare,
of everything that was the colour blue,
turned to a blank whisper of semblance.

Nothing,
no remembrance,
except He,
amongst the perishables,
a recanting syncopation of heart pulse,
and counting litanies on phalanges,
in that epiphany of knowing,
that the decorative’s of this world are non existent,
the simplest of pleasures,
be it the breath of an infant,
or a ground coffee bean,
irrelevant,
as you reconcile with your innateness,
that is, to deny being source-less,
and lose the amnesia you had,
clear the fog of being mad,
that your endless chase to be seen,
stopped you from seeing what deserved to be seen,
and being madly instead.

What bounty He might be,
if I only took my allotted place as I should,
forge my soul with fire, hammer and fire,
until the mere mention of it cuts me down.

W.E.

higher

They lied to you,
learning how to think slowly,
is the most profound thing you can do.

If this is default,
ignore the urge of society trying to change you.

There is only loss in between,
missing things,
obscurity and events unseen,
when your focus is so blurred,
experiences absurd,
and speed is what you fiend.

Instead, slow your breath,
and take three more between them,
learn the art of slowing down time too,
so you comprehend events in micro-chasms,
so the movements of anything coming your way are intercept-able at will.

This includes your own thoughts firing at you,
your ego commanding incessantly,
your limbs going places they shouldn’t.

When you can slow it all down,
inversely, your speed will be imperceptible.

W.E.

introversion – sixty three

 

The lustre of the outside world has lost its appeal,
blossoming doesn’t mean anything more than a closer step to dying,
just another vying,
ornamental display of superficiality,
a one way ticket to mortality,
and when the petals wither away,
down drops the seeds of vitality,
ironically, that life giving force,
the soul of this fleshen cycle,
is always an inside thing.

Why then are you afraid of folding,
of caving inside until you are outwardly nothing.

W.E.

introversion – sixty one


The most noble aspiration, is to serve.
You do realise, I’m at my most selfless,
when I am alone,
there, my servitude is exemplary.

I’m untouchable in my outward expression,
insofar you allow me to cave inside,
I’ll repay humanity what I owe it,
left to my cocoon,
watch me bloom,
watch me soon,
I’ll come with an array of colour and magnificent flutter,
please allow me the room.

W.E.

introversion – sixty

 

It comes in throes,
it reaps before it sows,
irrespective of season,
uncaring for reason,
pulling at the clutches of your existence,
it reminds you,
loneliness is all you know.

Why then,
try your hand at social contracts,
and the social ever contracts,
until the squeeze makes you feel,
like you don’t feel at all.

W.E.