On A Good Morning

Everyday grows longer. The sun doesn’t want to set or rise.
It just wants to hang there, burning us all alive.

My heart grows distant from the shores I used to bathe in
with the moon peeking through branches and organ music shaking the pews.
Such a long way from the joy I used to know in simplicity when I was young and
undeveloped, like a grey photograph – just a blur.

Most of what is precious to me has disintegrated.
My items have been donated to a worthier cause,
my heart and mind are devoted elsewhere
and no one cares for the heart I harbor.

So what do I do? Where am I supposed to go?

A stranger stops to tell me I have no "supposed to".
I have myself. And that’s a start!
Then he wanders away, obscured by the clean air,
frigid to the fingers and toes.

So I keep laying here, in my little alcove- my haven.
I let the sun come in to mix with the smoke
casting dancing patterns on the rich grass.
I lay here everyday as a bastardization of the Ventruvian adonis
wondering who came up with me.

I’m always alone here, even when I’m with someone.
Maybe someone will find this place and join me someday
though I doubt it.
But I don’t care. I am satisfied with myself.
I am not defined by my parents or my family
or my friends or my lovers.
I am defined by what I think;
by what I’ve been able to glean from my time on this rotating whirling rock.

So even though I am sad,
even though I have a thousand problems,
and I never deal with any of my emotions,
I have a sense of peace that few enjoy
because of the cost of being caught in the perpetual love game
that humans get themselves into.