Once, like you, I aspired to great ends,
time was forever, the body fresh, second
only to my ripe mind swelling, aswim
in oxygen, blood pumped through wings
though wind was all that I needed
to stay aloft, above the fray,
at hover in the rarefied.
Now I am caught in downdraft without lift,
in rapid descent, anticipating
the final touch of earth on skin,
of rock on bone.
Fatigue is quite different than ennui.
Together they are overwhelming.
Chagall 2018
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“Fatigue is quite different than ennui.
Together they are overwhelming.”
Brilliant lines, a superb poem! Perfectly captures a feeling I have far too often but couldn’t hope to express this well. Wonderful!
Thank you, D’Fire. I am in that bipolar swing of going from elation to the dregs on any moment’s notice. I think it’s a combo of nutrition, a feeling of disenfranchisement (from what I really don’t know), and the state of the world in general. And yet, there is nothing better than being alive. All the best. —CC
All I can say is – yep, me too. Peace . . .
As you once said, objects in the mirror…
Wow, this hits hard. I hope you are well, my friend.
Thank you. I am well and seeking roads less travelled. Just another day in Alphabet City! —CC