June 18, 2020

Threading Fibres of Gold into the Blanket of Life. {Poem}

 Tuva Mathilde Løland/ Unsplash

Maybe I am one big falsity.

Yet I want to be as real as the way your voice shakes when telling me your deepest vulnerabilities.

I want to grasp every word in the English language to lay my soul out on the line

I feel I need to lay it out—I can’t keep it locked away in a cage forever.

What is the point of having this curious, questioning mind

Musing on the ways of the universe, asking why?

Why don’t we stop and question things every now and then

Not all is as it appears to be.

Why don’t we talk about the things that really matter?

Why do we accept all we see, as it’s handed to us on a platter made out of nickel silver?

If I can’t share my thoughts with anyone, but keep it within my own, sometimes maddening, doubting mind.

A mind that could turn gold into dust

From my own deep and restless doubt, which can blacken the clearest and brightest star

A mind that tells me you are a falsity because you can never be or do anything of true value

Unless you stole it. Unless it’s one big facade.

Trying to render yourself worthy

When you have been told you will only amount to a speck of dirt buried within the earth on this great and beautiful landscape

Never to be a part of the landscape.

Never to leave the fibre of my being on this great and wondrous life.

Who is to say they are wrong?

They are wrong because every single organism on this earth is here to leave a piece of their fibre upon the blanket of life.

This I know for sure.

No fiber is any less significant in the creation of all that must be.

I know I have a have a lot to learn.

I am only starting as a tiny seedling

Wanting so desperately to be fully grown.

I have to continue down the road

I can’t take the exit.

The exit will only lead to my early departure

Disguising itself as giving me all I’ve ever wanted

When in reality it’s taking all I have ever gained

I have to keep going

On these tumultuous and frightening seas.

In spite of the darkness, which is clouding that great big lighthouse in front of me.

When I’m least expecting it, maybe it will happen without a passing thought in my mind.

Going unnoticed like the moment you were sitting on that cold, hard seat on that crowded bus, truly believing all the beauty in the world had been taken from you; you will never find it again.

As the child sitting beside you is looking at the women across from you—who lost pieces of her soul in her life of tragedy, who can only find relief in a life of delusion.

Everyone looks at her as less than a human being.

This child is looking at her as if she is carrying the whole world within her heart as if she were the purest form of a dream—carrying all the beauty the world could possibly hold.

The moments we miss wrapped up in our own despair, which causes blindness.

If we could only look deeper, instead of accepting truth as what we see appearing on the surface.

Realizing there is so much more

Than what our limited intelligence can see

The darkness in the sky will start to fall away.

I will make it to the lighthouse.

I will find all that is true and free.


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Kristina Buhler  |  Contribution: 1,390

author: Kristina Buhler

Image: Tuva Mathilde Løland/ Unsplash

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