Paul Willason Poet Free verse

Eternity

All this introspection
gets too much, 
crushing you under 
its own gravity, drawing you
inwards. Even the senses are
captive to its cause, the head
a dark, claustrophobic hole.

Then the world miraculously 
intervenes with an afternoon, 
blowing leaves in circles
about your heavy feet
as if to tickle and bend solemn 
lips into a begrudging smile.

Then the unexplainable,
a sense of something escaping, 
glancing off the ordinary
into eternity 
and almost embarrassingly, 
you give a little skip.

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John Lawless June 4, 2023 at 6:48 AM AH,, a reflection on the lost art of skipping..I worked on some large construction projects and in the midst of "managerial mania" would ask...."HEY! HAVE YOU EVER HAD THE UNCONTROLLABLE URGE TO LET YOUR LIMBS FLY FREELY AND SKIP MERRILY ACROSS THE JOBSITE??" Paul Willason June 5, 2023 at 5:26 AM Should imagine such a call to freedom went down well with the riveted attitude of the powers.... Apprecuate yr comments John....indeed the "skip" serves as a gesture of defiance.