Details |
Jonathan Kieller Poem
I know who I am.
I love myself.
I love others.
Others, do love me.
Then why does it so often feel as no one does?
Why is this journey often so lonely?
Do we ever really know anyone?
With only disjointed moments of real connection in this modern life - A bunch of nomads huddled around their fire.
Do we even really know ourselves?
Like dust in the wind, our plans and whims come and go. Are those what make us who we are?
I certainly hope not.
If life were a mosaic of sorrow and joy, why does the sorrow seem to last longer? Why does it seem to feel the more real?
Why does it swallow the canvas like darkness in a starry, starry night? -
Maybe to make the slivers of joy shine all the brighter, says the wiseman.
Maybe.
But what do I know? What does he know? No one of this world has those answers.
So I trust. Because I don't know what else to do.
Copyright © Jonathan Kieller | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Jonathan Kieller Poem
Microwave Bandit
This food splattered battlefield
May you die badly
Copyright © Jonathan Kieller | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Jonathan Kieller Poem
Tired mind heaviness.
Long day of varied working.
Restful sleep tonight.
Copyright © Jonathan Kieller | Year Posted 2020
|