Distant Monday
Throughout a distant Monday
the main topic arises,
the topic seems to have appeared -
the question of self love
of self sufficiency
all about being needy;
all about amends making.
Barely may I recognise
from a relatively short distance
the flute of the future,
and needless to say,
may I look back to the flame
of the recent past gates.
I self diagnose vertigo,
every second a heavy stone
a bit more must I push forward.
Where is the axis
for a peaceful existence?
Every time I firmly claim
to have come up with a clear notion,
or a steady Bible to follow
an even fiercer storm
is just around the corner.
So sudden the angst,
a scorch does my skin perceive.
A freezing cold breeze
my hair so abruptly ruffles,
and it turns into resistan fur,
it allows Darwin, consequently,
to boast about his theory.
Although the psychic hurricane
has pulverised all strength,
has weakened all possibilities
of once again rebuilding
or even about me caring
I am still working hard,
for either me or anyone
who might want to come around.
Naked do I hug myself,
indefensively do I touch myself,
checking if there is no missing part,
checking if I am a survivor
of this unequal battle.
