Jan 8^th – Ideas

 

Our representations are fixed, ‘twixt the real and the imaginary.

They are not real, nor true to life, they are a caged menagerie.

Where life taunts its sorrow, haunts its hollow, denies a morrow.

They are the internal eternal alluding to the present moment,

the unreal ideals which we toy with and lament.

They are dead, made from cement, but this we do not realise,

until we hold them up as expectations and wallow when they don’t materialize.

We squeeze life as it splutters, we throw it in the gutter, without even knowing it.

But little do we know that we do reap what we sew,

so for your own sake, pay attention, and watch life’s show,

be present and be willing to see more than you know.