James Moore Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

Tilting at Windmills

("Dark Pool Nebula #3", 2011, original oil)

Tilting at Windmills

In this modern world, in these modern times
adventurers of the spirit are looked down upon
at least among my family and friends.

It’s all good if kept at a distance,
but too up close and personal
and it quickly becomes uncomfortable.

This is the nature of madness after all,
easy to admire or pity from afar
difficult to contain, thus contagious up close.

What are these giants anyway
but figments of imagination

     relics from a child’s fever dream, 
     youthfully flirted with out on the ledge 
     and only recalled much later with nostalgic fondness
     until the insulation begins to wear thin, again
     as in youth, the myelin sheaths exposed to all elements
     no longer undeveloped, but overwhelmed, weakened
     by so many years, so many close calls,
     expectations, disappointments, gains and losses
     that the highs and lows
     all blend into a flat plain
     stretching endlessly across a plateau hard won
     difficult to reach, exhausting to maintain
     as the mountains continue to shimmer and call
     their wind-horses fluttering sweet melodies on the breeze
     silky sirens of another shore…

which in themselves are timeless
yet loom large when we feel small.

And the truth is we are all small.

(12/7/23)

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