Gasping for breath,
I Thrash around
To stay afloat.
Within this dilemma
Of broken thoughts
And bent wills,
My dying body is the
Dichotomy of nature’s
Reason to kill and
To breed.
My flailing arms, my
Bubbled breathing and
My aching joints are witness
To the need of the
Goddess of wilderness to
Feed its hungry souls.
The strength of my
Arms, the extent of my
Lungs to draw breath
And the will of intent;
All drawn from the unending
Voids of the very
Wilderness that tries to kill.
Within the ideal to
Kill and to breed,
I stay afloat,
As the Gods war among
Themselves,
And I, a totem of
Their games,
Forever balancing between
The ages of life.
Siddiqui F.
(14.04.2022)
NB: At Home. After a long long time. Substituted the word dilemma for quagmire on 31.03.2023. I think I’m using quagmire too often these days.
Ho-Hum 