Poem -

Swamp

Swamp

Swamp.
Day one.
Tick-tock.
The clock
starts
ticking.
The ledger’s
stats
dutifully
written.
A book
to be
read
upon
completion.
Born
into a
world
full of
clocks
ticking
away.
Stories
recorded
long ago.
Maneuvering
through
the already.
Myths spun.
Beliefs
in place.
Emptiness.
The process
begins.
Absorption.
Filling the
void.
Forced to
one’s knees.
Accepting
what’s told.
Conjured
up
by the
before.
Ancient
thoughts.
Dated
thoughts.
Installed
as real,
fact.
Trudging
through
the swamp
of yesteryear.
Ignorance!
Deep
in the
unknown.
Made up.
Searching
for stable
ground.
Original
thought.
Animal
mind.
What new
could be
found?

 

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Comments

author
Marion

I have, like many many people, a deep love of books. More and more I am realising that everything that is and ever was written, recorded, considered and observered are merely the thoughts,  interpretations and perspectives of nothing more than essentially flawed mortals just like myself. What is truth?....indeed x

Reply
author
John Prophet

So true Marion,
seems like we’re just recycling stale thinking.
John

Reply
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