Ennui

“Way far back in the beginning of the world was the whirlwind warning that we could all be blown away like chips and cry- Men with tired eyes realize it now, and wait to deform and decay- with maybe they have the power of love yet in their hearts just the same, I just don't know what that word means anymore- All I want is an ice cream cone”

                             Jack Kerouac

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Slow the rain falls

More mist than shower

Grayness hovers just above the ground

A dour day

Grumpy from the moment it awoke

Gone is the whirlwind of youth

Dangerous and tantalizing

Full of vitality

All that remains is this strange soft stillness

Where one sits

Book in hand

Gazing at words that will not form

And feeling every second of all the years

Waiting for deformity and decay to

Finally shatter my illusion of vitality

As everything hurts

(and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work)

It is hard, this vague day to stay awake

Physically my eyes would rather close that read

But it is in my soul that the real weariness lives

Ennui

Seems to be my reality

That strange stuckness that does not destroy

But does not nurture

One does not exactly frown

But neither does on exactly, smile

Not from the level of the soul

There is so little joy springing up from that place

Where joy should live

Somewhere deep inside of my, the truth echoes

“all you need is love”

Not “love”

But Love

That Love that is

That Love that created all of this

And me too

What I need is to feel that Love, accept that Love

Which transforms and renews

Which kills and births

So that I might know love

And knowing

Might give love

And giving might receive love

Might experience the universe in a smile

In the touch of a hand

In an embrace

But all that seems a step, or two, too far

At least today

And so I will stare into the mist

And write a blog few will read

And seek to muster energy in a cup

(just coffee)

And perhaps

Rest these tired eyes