Rarely the Cure

Tired of the moon following the sun
And gravity in general
Tired of the feasting and the vanities,
The luxurious and ludicrous
Tired of being pulled and in the churning wake of it all

What happens when you let go
Or crash out, fling-swing
In some violent attempt at glory?
Anything but holding on steady
So still and quiet
Again, “graying but in harness,
meeting payments regularly”

I could do nothing for you, Fukuoka
You had to see the heron
It had to shout to you the truth
Like Bankei’s phlegm spat on the wall
What you want, what you need, what you expect
Is rarely the cure

So look in any direction but the one you go
The sentence you started stops
The reply expected, hangs in the air
The dew never lifts, dawn never breaks

And you drink only water
That doesn’t fit in any cup

Featured image by Laurie Tietjen


2 thoughts on “Rarely the Cure”

  1. Love this.
    You always make me go to researching, or maybe it’s that I don’t believe in the validity of my own experience while reading.

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