When Summer Never Ends

A neverending summer is coming

And then, will all of us live authentically

With space to grow?

On a transformed planet

How deeply will we confront ourselves

To become something more?

Our chaos, our need, drives far ahead of our rationality,

And rationalizing our needs only breeds further chaos.

The narratives we believe in feed the roots of our beliefs.

Skies burning, tensions rising, anger, anxiety, malaise.

Nature pressures us from every angle,

Guiding us forward to communities of love and

Societies of strength.

Flaws and preferences notwithstanding,

Will we shape ourselves to live abundantly or

Apply pressure to stay restrained?

They say love conquers all as strength enslaves.

Compassion may carry us through tumultuous times

As Egoism may grind us through arduous days,

And how will we console ourselves when the hot breath of summer comes to stay?

 

Streaming Life Anywhere

Judging value

In indiscriminate measure

Through the process

Of identifying constants

Amid variable personas.

Chaotic babble

Interwoven with emotions

Clouding personallities

In insepid debate

Signifying little.

Introspective hell

Latching onto safe platforms

Expressing the darkest depths

Of existential dread

In idle whispers.

Entertainment

Like an inconvenient memory

Signaling dire warnings

As questionable information

Presents itself in lace.

Daydreaming watchers

Wondering within access

On the possible implications

Of life on Mars

Or anywhere.

Complexity breeds

As simplifying destroys.

Any and all answers

Wither on

Or grow away.

A Hymn For Eris

One fickle second

Of mad fortune’s tastes

To cripple your empire

And spoil your grace.

Such calculated systems

On sadistic order based

So proud and so erect

So ripe to be erased.

You wait, oh so patient

As your power accumulates.

You measure, oh so careful

As your path illuminates.

In one fickle second

Every effort goes to waste.

Every plan and every conquest

Exploding in your face.

All discipline is vain,

All masters are replaced.

A single fickle second

Is all it even takes.

Every certain truth is only ever partly so,

The Golden Apple Goddess smiles, for she knows.

To those who struggle desperately for some sense of control,

Discordia’s afflux, both above and so below.