From http://forthelonghaul.org: I wrote this poem at 2AM; it’s dark, but no doubt a part of me as I stumble along in this journey of recovery. I have good days and bad, but no matter what I am happy to be alive.

Wonder

Sometimes i wonder,
why i even bother,
to engage in a world that doesn’t care whether i live or die,
because life is not an instrument,
measured and anointed.
Free will is a mere nuisance,
where control is the jurisprudence.
But then why do we even try,
if our mark goes unnoticed,
our trace goes un-tracked.
Our voice muted by the violence,
of an ever growing tyrant,
whose name shall go unmentioned,
but whose deed shall give all nightmares.
And so we tear through the facade of decadence.
We peruse forward in awe,
for the only mirror that reflects my name,
is the alter arranged in ashes.
And so I wonder…
Wonder do I do.
And I find answers where there are only questions,
and questions where there is only stillness.
Impress and caress the air that gives life,
I surround my self in silence,
that parts the waters of turbulent tomorrows,
or days that will never make it to night.
For night only knows shadows,
dark and decrepit,
they crawl toward light’s un-forsaken sorrow.
“Not me!”, I plead into the wake-less dream she calls her own.
“Not mine!”, I tremble away from her warm embrace.
I call this magic, under no uncertain guise.
Bruised black and blue from the wailing of tenders’ tune.
Sing for omnipotent truth to pass on to the youth;
it is our story that makes history,
when passed from mouth to mouth.
You will not read our story in books;
it is to rulers delight,
that change roles in like lightening,
and showers like the death of night.
Come forward if you dare,
dull and perplexed,
wonder’s knife finds its’ home in the middle of my heart.
But blood does not spill her last breadth,
because once her lips are pierced they refuse to close.
On and on she meanders,
past clouded meadows,
over huddled bodies,
and through toxic ideas set to explode when one retracts the will wonder.