Greetings, plucky travelers! Another day, another thankful pleasure to make your acquaintances.
Our last post was heavier than the scale even measures, so while today’s is less somber, it’s still vaguely tangential to our former musings. Alas, everything is connected anyway so there’s no escaping the pseudo-maudlin. Or is there?
Not much preamble today, I’ve written a number of decent jokes, but none fit with today’s theme, so we’ll just have to content ourselves with the usual dithering hogwash. Is it arduous to wash a hog? Confusing to wrangle and perform, thereby eliciting its modern definition? Hogwash, if you ask me, “I’m going to give this poem a buttermilk bath. My mother used to bathe her poem in buttermilk when it got dirty”. Who am I to question the sagacity of Mrs. Zuckerman?
“De/Void”, July 4, 2021.
Rare capricious friend is hope
Life raft or the ocean’s deep
Peaceful climb and abrupt slope
Puny hop to massive leap.
When residing firm within
Ally counters any foe
Yet in absence much akin
Arcane summoner of woe.
Twin meanings of an anchor
Spinning coin, vacillate sides
Abject peace or chill rancour
Within decision resides.
Perhaps not every day
Will blaze cinder’s titan flame
Still clutch tight to wily fey
Stoke low embers, stake your claim.
Much like mercurially shifting clouds above, sometimes clarity is temporarily obstructed, but it’s only a matter of time before the sun penetrates, or the wind dissipates, and the harmonious cerulean panorama re-exerts its proper dominance. Is it a comfort or a terror to know that everything, good or bad, is impermanent? I’m undecided but at least we’re assured variety.
Poem notes: “every” is a super annoying term in regard to meter, as it easily reads as 2 or 3 syllables. What an utter scamp of a word. Still, always useful, if not convenient. Consider yourself properly admonished and praised, dear term, and let the great oscillation in the sky carry on it’s unabashed ambiguity.
What’s the deal with anchors? [Please read prior sentence in Jerry Seinfeld voice] Are they holding you firm and providing stability? Or preventing forward progress, halting important advancement? It’s a bizarrely enigmatic notion.
Remember, “the fair” is hardly the only veritable smorgasbord out there, so never settle for scraps when life’s true cornucopia beckons.
Go in peace, and go with hope.
Happy Trails and Waggy Tales.
A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.