As What Will

  Frequently designated a dreamer, in perpetuum,
among many other things, he does, he admits,
allow little space to plan.
                                          Rightly or wrongly,
        this is the path
             he has ended up on. Difficult, perhaps,
               at times when cracks in the concrete led him astray.
  Only recently discovered, by accident more than fault, is balance
maintained in a world cluttered with discrepancies and dogma
forced upon him by conspiracy theorists, self-serving henchmen,
    Jesus freaks and hangers on, black hole believers
        and Masters of the Universe
          who continue, ad nauseam, to propagate fear.

  Erstwhile encounters not forgotten, not
soon enough, minutes bypass memory, he has clung to details
      accounted for nostalgically and passionately,
          each plank of a moral platform galvanized and scandalized.
He continues, white-knuckle grip, adhering
to a belief system founded over time; tested, altered,
as deemed fit or favourable.
Fully aware and seemingly appreciative, he has crossed the line
   from seeing himself merely as a character in this long drawn-out drama
        to bearing witness
                         to what happens, as it happens.
He, alone, will not wait to understand, but,
    carpe diem, record the state of a disingenuous planet.

  Each event, as it unfolds, to be accepted as what will.
No longer a second-hand story in third-person narrative,
                     this first-person view could offer confusion at worst,
discomfort at least, though instant, authentic, and liberating in ways
only he will determine. Tenet nosce.
 Each element of freedom comes at a cost.
         He will taste the summer ahead, open mouthed, open-minded,
               without concern of those in the past, but
                   with a belief not to get too far ahead of himself
in the dreams he conjures.
Self and the spirit pacified today with the joy offered,
      instead of looking for what
               is no longer there. It is easier that way.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

Poem Kubili
International Poetry Collective

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