He has no answers,
So he surmises that
All one can do is
Judge coldly,
Based on no information,
A twisted perspective
Instilled by inculcation:
Rigid, inflexible,
Devoid of reason,
Disturbingly harsh,
One-dimensional.
Working and reworking
The thing without any
Clear idea of what it’s
Supposed to look like.
Sure, he’s read plenty
About what needs
To be done, but none of
It makes sense.
Forging onward with
The distinct feeling
That this may not be
The path either.
Trying one thing
After another,
Hoping one works.
They never do,
But the other option
Is to stand still
Doing nothing,
Longing for
Different results.
They recognize each other,
Indistinguishable,
Echoing the same message,
No divergence of thought,
Satisfied with repeating
Common duplicate drivel,
Absence of critical thinking,
Ordinariness esteemed,
Swimming with the stream.
It was never going to
Go her way.
An abrupt,
Blunt realization.
It seemed so simple:
Feel for someone else.
No empathy forthcoming,
Just coldness.
Discarded when no longer
Feeding the pathology.
Rejected, unneeded,
Wondrous opportunities appear.
Wave after wave
Testing his mettle,
Eroding what little
Strength remains,
Each day a new test
Of perseverance.
Not knowing where it is,
No idea,
No recollection,
Anxiety, guilt,
Fear that it is about
Much more than
The object,
A transition to
Something else.
Too many papers
Festooning my cluttered desk,
Hanging off the edge.
I remember her happy,
Writing glowing, vivid prose.
So it all comes out at once:
The things that were never said,
Feelings suppressed, ignored,
Stuffed down so deep down that
They emerge unrecognizable,
A gale of pain and anger,
Bewilderment, a pacing diatribe,
Trembling in place while
Continuing to move forward.
