Unironically Uninspired
Unironically uninspired,
I drift through the grey,
Floating through hours,
A lone leaf on still water,
Away from my life source,
Insignificant and yet common,
Waiting for the storm.
There’s no fire in my chest,
No spark, no fight,
Just the dull hum of existence,
A clock ticking in a quiet room.
I breathe in the ordinary,
Exhale the mundane.
But then –
the crash,
the crack in the sky,
the world splits open,
and I am alive.
In the chaos,
I find colour.
In the rubble,
I build towers.
When the earth trembles beneath me,
I dance.
Only in the crisis
do I find myself whole.
Unironically, I wait
for the storm,
for the flood,
for the flame,
so I can rise,
so I can burn,
so I can feel
what it means
to be alive.
I’ll make waves.
I’ll be noticed.
I’ll be heard,
listened to,
acknowledged,
remembered.
Copyright ©
Lauren Tilley
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