The Eternal Blow Hot and Cold

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I suppose it makes sense,
bodies have limited shelf life unlike almond butter
atleast it comes with the option of being stored,
refrigerated even;
it can last up till months, but us?
We crumble like wet paper,
our fibers torn when neglected.
Bodies are conscious but don’t have consciousness
they care not for rules and regulations
they scatter,
like potpourri evoke fragrant kisses;
painting the soul in shades of atomic tangerine,
rose and bittersweet shimmer— what am I?
Why am I here?
Will it matter when I am gone?
The answer perhaps lies in existential animateness
I am alone
but not really in my query of the universe;
this pattern is decades old,
with the moon and stars bursting for everyone to see—
birth is only the first gate,
like Persephone I bathe myself in the devastating light.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Laura Berger Illustration, Pinterest

Day three ~ Existentialism

Posted for “Play It Again” @ Real Toads

And Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub

34 Replies to “The Eternal Blow Hot and Cold”

  1. I can believe the eternal would blow hot and cold, Sanaa, they have so much time on their hands, and that mere mortals ‘crumble like wet paper, / our fibers torn when neglected’. I like the vivid colour in the phrase ‘painting the soul in shades of atomic tangerine’.

  2. Perhaps just viewing atomic tangerine would blow our minds. I enjoyed your journey into the metaphysical. You touch on the eternal questions. It’s nice to see that while soul-searching you feel connected to “something”.

  3. Well I definitely have a shelf life but being old I can’t read the label anymore to check! The most important thing in life regardless of age is to do as many thing you planned to early on. OK some you won’t achieve but to remain ambitious to the end will make life that much more enjoyable,

  4. So exsquiste! I especially love these lines:

    “they scatter,
    like potpourri evoke fragrant kisses;
    painting the soul in shades of atomic tangerine,”

    and your closing:

    “birth is only the first gate,
    like Persephone I bathe myself in the devastating light.”

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