petals

Humanism and the eternal search for answers
We climb, travel, battle and struggle to know

I see the scattering of consequences
Like the rose petal falling away from the head
Tumbling, caught by gravity and air

Fetish, products, answers and ideas
Each being delivered as a solution
Only adding to the complexity posed by a lack of identity

We don’t know who we are
We don’t know where we are

The greatest of ironies is the self is never far from us
Dwelling within, waiting for love
Don’t look for help from outside
Or strain for reason

The image and impression we are aching to know
Stands revealed, branded to the soul
But ignored like the vagrant around affluence.

The senses troubled no longer
The peace being aired in the cold of a winter morning
Pure, still, peace
A blade of grass encased by frost
Feeling the touch of dawns warmth

We are so loved
We have forgotten how to love
Manifestation of nature and grace

Drift within this space like free radicals
Unattached and unconcerned
Not captured or conditioned by societal expectations

Listen to the chatter of the speaking departed
Bobok gatherings a gift
A loving residue of those happily drifting
Other worldly sirens

Connect to the core of the earth and soul
Stilled and resonant to being not just doing.

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This poem was submitted as part of the LSE HE Blog’s Poetry Amnesty.