J’ai Perdu…Perdu

9 Feb

Wondering if the real me is actually here

Rambling around; doing what I am doing

Experiencing what I am experiencing

Thinking if this is it

Is my life just this?

A collection of moments bound by a mind, body and soul

Ponder that and then consider the alternative

Maybe one’s existence is organized by ones mind

Random assembly of creative notions that form the day

 

There are times where I am so full of energy and color

Others when gray and pain envelope me

What choice does one have?

Continue or end

Which is better?

There is no right answer

Play and go on; no other.

 

I see Alice and I see part of me in her

We mirror.

How odd…

Who will escape?

Who is really real?

Words on a page or my existence

One will live forever

It is clearly seen in black and white

There is no red

Yet, I will still chase, question, yearn , and fall

Only to see that I could be on that page

That I have been created and molded to be the way of the writer or the artist

Never unique or individual, but a figment pieced together in someone’s head.

 

When the book is done

When my day is over

It will all come to a close

The end is always near no matter how long it is to the finish

Ask then who recalls the life of her.

 

—-

Thanks for permitting me to let that beast out.  Kinda rusty.  It needs some oil.  Later…

 

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