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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)
Copyright ©
James Moore
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