escaping the dark house
on a sunny day
is more freeing
than any obligation
that compels us to rise from our slumber
It’s not easy to get on with this life
when we are trapped by trivialities,
penciled-in appointments that don’t matter,
and routines with no exit
the dark house is safe, but after a while…
nothing happens there
We are never complete, and those who say we can be
are selling soap that will never make us clean
the problem is not surviving
but living
We don’t know how to live well
a day bursting with pleasure
is followed by monotonous clouds
underhanded competition
causes me to watch a movie in the dark
where an old man is sailing a sinking ship
alone
in a peaceful sea
Deadly
the dark house is visited
but we can’t stay there
it’s a retreat from the cares of the world
whatever we do
doesn’t matter
meaninglessness
is comforting
meaninglessness
is maddening
Our mood matters
and when we escape the dark house and stand on the outside,
the sky is blue
the wind speaks truth
answers to the most difficult questions are found in the most unlikely places
We rescue ourselves
from the dark house.
Your poem captures where I pretty much am at the moment. I’m sure it strikes a chord with others as well.
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