Reasons
Saturday Ramble: 29-10-22
My Poem “Why?”
There is always a reason, there is always a why, there is always a motivation for the myriad of actions that people sometimes take and for the many decisions that people sometimes make that they have no trouble in being able to justify. Where there is a spark there will always be a flame... where there is touch and proximity there will always be intimacy... where there is language there is will always be consideration, interpretation and loss - because truth and reality are not always the same... where there is the evidence of stories of the past there will always remain mysteries. Myths, legacies, stories, records, chronicles, cave paintings, rock carvings are important depictions of a mixture of both fiction and fact all rolled into one... sometimes it doesn't take anything more than someone saying that they heard a voice tell them to do something for them to immediately act seemingly without thinking, nor without a fight... symbols, signs, warnings, lessons, cautionary tales are vital for any civilization to learn the merits of what is right and what is wrong... sometimes it takes the bravest of the brave to stop something that they know is going to happen before it happens - so that some day someone won't have to look back upon a choice that they made and have to justify to others and perhaps to themselves the answer to the question: why?
My Poem ‘Balloons’
Where we have been
and where we are going
are tied together
by the threads of our lives;
while we are enjoying a good story
we never want it to come to an end;
darkness and light ties night to day
and day to night;
sometimes when we know
we are approaching the end of a great book
we will put it down and bookmark our place
so that we can pick up one day where we left off;
however, just as every writer
must finish writing their story,
every reader must follow a tale
to its conclusion,
and when they reach the last word of the last page
promise to return to the same story again and again –
the same, but different –
like periodically catching up with an old friend.
We all sometimes look at our own reflection
and do not immediately like the face that we see –
though someone else may look at the same face
and see the face of unparalleled infinite beauty;
we all should remember that a mirror
can only show us a distorted image of how we appear,
and the only true way of knowing
who the world sees when they look at us
is to go to the one person who knows us best
to describe us and tell us who they see
and what about us they most revere.
We all have reasons for what we do;
certain things and special people
have an indefinable gravity about them;
we all love people in our lives
in ways that we show every day,
but we sometimes feel a need to prove;
we all leave many clues;
I, myself, could never deny
an unbreakable connection –
once made, never severed –
because, just like the bound pages in a book,
bound people are linked forever
because that is what was always meant to happen.
Some people rise and fall by the resonance of a voice;
some hearts beat in perfect-time with other hearts,
and even when they are far-apart from one-another
they constantly sing “see you soon”;
falling in love is uncontrollable
and it is a fundamental instinct without choice;
all stories have chapters and twists,
beginnings and endings,
and some have a pace and a depth to them
that is as vast as space;
and though its true meaning and message
may not be as blatant as a telephone ringing,
the best thing about any story
under any cover is one that you can hold,
walk with, and even tie to something,
and is that which you should never let go of –
because once a story rises too high out of reach
it will become someone else’s,
and slowly drift away like the wind
carrying away a balloon of your own making.
Mark The Poet 