Love Poem 11

There must come a time when

lightning ceases to strike,

when everything becomes still,

and the humming and droning fade to quiet.

There has to be.

There just has to be.

There are so many of us

damned fools,

and damn souls

fumbling our way through it all and turning away from

any sort of guiding light at

the first chance

and there are so many ways we reason it all away

and things we can say to trick ourselves

and arguments we can make to fool ourselves

and excuses we can make to convince ourselves

and funny things have

funny ways of happening when

they’re least expected and we are met with an

onslaught of

oh you just won’t ever

believe it

because

because

because

and

and

and

blah

blah

blah.

There are many times where

running from the light

is what feels comfortable and what feels good and we have our

lifetime supply of ways to make it about

seeking some type of wholeness without seeking

perfect balance.

There are people who say the divine helps those who help themselves and there are those who

say there is no rest for the wicked and still others who

say idle hands are the workshops of devils.

So, we try to find stillness while being careful to not find

too much.

We work hard, but be careful of working too hard.

Settle, but don’t settle.

Never let come what will come or

let what will be, be.

That’s us damn fools out there,

feeling like damned souls,

feeling like we will never get ahead and we will never find quiet

and we will never have peace because we always need to move.

All we want is to live in the background noise and become one with it all until

blink

it is all over.