sleeping giant
it is hard for me to live.
it is hard for me to be a person who is doing things,
instead of imagining them all in blue spectrums,
magnesium waterfalls solidifying me quickly into
hot sparking statuary.
i've killed my racehorse.
i live in a sink.
i drink tea all day in order to open up my think,
though even after countless cups i still feel like
a weeping willow waiting out the winter.
so i radiate.
and i whistle.
and i try to do, and not just try, to be my destination,
and not just a map to get there.
but i slink and roll; i double back on myself and now i'm
a ghost living two seconds in the past tick tock,
i can't see my clock- my eyelids are blocking my view.
how predictable.
and I'm slow, so slow that if i tried to catch a snail,
it would put up its sail and outrun me.
floating in its wake now, i'm barely awake now,
but i can still hear my heart beating- badow! badow! badow!
mmm, you know what i like? sunshine.
warm days and a crystal clear mind,
and not this cloudy haze.
i've been preparing for that, all the while
the winter of my discontent still gnawing at my brain
like an invisible rat, and yet...
my progress often seems pointless, directionless, unknown.
am i idling with no steering wheel on some muddy back road?
and is there lint in my hair? really? where?
sometimes it feels like my whole soul is bare,
as i sit here alone in my room, crouching on my chair.
but of course that's the source of my problems right there.
it is only in the latest of hours when I remember
that i am both a man and a boss,
that i am a sleeping giant tossed
down from olympus to awaken from slumber,
to turn ordinary things into thunder.
and that is why i'm here- to figure out how.
just lemme lie down for a few more minutes
before i wade back into the Tao!
~
2009 - 2014