Notes About The Poem
For contest sponsored by Tom Woody: Paul Gauguin painting, where do we come from? what are we? where are we going?
Where Are a We Going?
I am resigned.
I was once full of neoteric life, fresh as morning dew.
Blank as a hardened sponge waiting for that morning, to
soak in all this life.
I was curious and surprised by the innocence of young creatures. Playful, and distracted by all the colors, flavors, scents, sounds, and textures whirling around me. I was but one drop of water yet presumed myself the storm.
I was then full of new life within my growing awareness. I was the life giver. The female womb, ripe as fruit from the tree. The planting of which was forbidden but irresistible in its passion and pleasure.
Life and death growing inside me.
I was then blind sided by reality, by my insignificant self.
I lost the morning dew, I lost the fevered curiosity, I lost the ego.
I was left with cold questions and fear. Knowing myself to be corruptible.
I became the seeker, the hunter, the collector of truth.
The water dried up, hardened the sponge once again with no more mist or dew to soak in. It was not for me.
The colors no longer distract.
The flavors have lost their savor.
No perfume in this decaying stillness.
I am deaf to their noises, and they shrink from my touch.
I am resigned to listen to my own thoughts… of what is to come.
I am resigned.
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