all the scattered leaves that fall tumble in the park; all of them, like you and me, barely leave a mark how the seasons tear us down, wind blows here, and yon -- all the scattered leaves we are: here today and gone
The emptiness that is my soul,
The hopelessness that lies this way,
Are each a temporary thing:
For moods are minutes in a day,
The day that life is in this span,
And questions come as answers flee,
As dreaming hovers, like the clouds
That swirl around us restlessly.
These chemicals that we call “us”
Are scattered bits of foreign stars,
With each a flickering, at best,
That maybe lights, or maybe mars
The footsteps of some other’s way.
This is the truth that solace knows:
That where we go, some other’s gone,
And someone in the future goes,
For we’re connected, though we feel
Apart, alone, and frankly, lost —
For empty roads and searching hearts
Both find the ones who life has tossed
About. Like you. I know it’s true,
For every bit of warm regard
You send my way, there is the trace
Of how well you know, “life is hard.”
But out there, on the road you’re on,
Are different detours and travails,
For though you’ve been rerouted, it
Cannot be truly said, “she fails –”
As long as you – and me as well –
Can be true to our loves, our friends,
And try our best from where we are,
And when we ought to, make amends,
Then barren times, and barren earth,
Need not dismay or set us back.
For every path is different, every
Surplus is a kind of lack
And it’s our choices make us, us.
Not circumstance, or skill, or looks,
What kind of car we own or drive,
How many cats, how many books —
Our character they say’s our fate.
I have not always welcomed this:
But I have seen the sunrise smile,
And I have felt my true love’s kiss,
So empty roads need not be so.
If I perspective take, and keep,
I can adjust to hills and turns
And when I stop, relax, and sleep,
And know, that though we be but mist,
We have a purpose here, today,
And that each cloud that wanders, will
Get lost, sometimes, along the way.
What is exaggerated to one person, may mean the world to another
She went; the color left his world.
His small-town life of big-time dreams
Was squashed beneath the weight of grief,
How bad a breakup often seems
For there, surrounded by the gray,
He saw no light and heard no call:
Exaggerated though this sounds,
To him, it was not so at all
A trivial domestic mess?
No. Life is naught
Snowfall in the meadow,
Wind blows through the woodland,
Day gives way to shadow,
All with frost is aproned —
Boundaries and fences
Bring to thought tomorrows:
Where we draw our limits
There will come
We should not care so much about appearance.
I read this everyday, and everywhere —
But yet we will; and brook no interference
In judging others. Nor curtail our care
For our own looks; for our own way of seeming.
We seem to want to have this thing both ways —
The moral view, that all are valid, equal;
The underlying view that always stays —
That some are better looking than most others.
We twist and squirm, for this seems wrong; but still –
We strive to be spectacular, and realize
We’ve known it when we’ve seen it, and still will.
The same society that says to curb it
Will broadcast who wears what on some red carpet;
And tell us all are beautiful alike
Within a sequined dress, behind a mic.
When I was young, I hated physical education,
Because I was not an athlete, and couldn’t be, no matter what I did.
I asked my parents why I should try, when I would never be good at it,
And they said, “Because you need to be the best you can be;
Don’t compare yourself to others.”
But everything feels like a competition, and, of course,
Sports literally is a competition.
I think that’s how we are about looks.
Many of us know what it is to try to get attention in a room
Where the really attractive people are getting all of it.
It feels like losing.
So why even try, when we know that’s not our destiny?
“Because you need to be the best you can be;
Don’t compare yourself to others.”
I also believe in the subjectivity of looks;
Different people have different tastes.
Which works out well for most of us.
There’s more to attraction than looks;
There’s more to a person than their image.
However, looks do matter:
To each of us and for each of us.
It often seems like society sends
Mixed signals –
And it does —
As in the vanity-based movie business
Lecturing us on how all types of appearances
Are equally valid
When you know they don’t mean it.
But the truth lives
In the in-betweens
As it often does.
It matters, but it’s not everything;
We should do the best we can, even if
We will win no competitions in doing so.
What is it you think you see?
Colors, patterns, symmetry?
Or do you see all the strife
That makes this messy, sprawling life?
Who is it you think you know?
Does your thinking make it so?
Or do you see from afar
The ugly diamonds that